


Just for Caps

by 1thousandminus7



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, M/M, MacCready has a temper, Nate is a bit crazy, Preston is a cinnamon roll, Smut, This is a happy one I promise, but Mac loves him anyway, lots of political drama, minimal death, sadist Nate
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-31
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2018-08-12 06:21:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 28
Words: 151,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7923886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1thousandminus7/pseuds/1thousandminus7
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's just for caps, is what he told himself. Why else would he follow this weirdo? It's certainly not the free stuff, or the comfortable bed, or the fact that he actually likes the company, and it's definitely, DEFINITELY not because he's in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Introductions

**Author's Note:**

> A little bird told me the MacCready/M!SS tag is overwhelmingly depressing, and that they deserve happiness. Well, I aim to please. I have no idea how long this is gonna be. The more interest it gets, the longer I'll make it, I guess.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You meet some strange people hanging out in the back of a pub. Most of them you try to stay away from; if you don't, you end up in a bad place. Sometimes, though, you just might get lucky.

The first thing MacCready thought when the man walked into his bar was man, what a freaking weirdo. During his argument with the two Gunner shithe- ah, idiots, he caught sight of a man in seriously mismatched armour, red hair in a stupid little ponytail and all sorts of weird crap hanging off his belt standing in the doorway, listening in unashamedly. He raised an eyebrow at him, but didn't comment.

"Are we done?" He turned his attention back to his 'old friends'.

"Yeah... We're done." Winlock gave him one last dirty look, and left, glaring at the newcomer as he did so. Barnes trailed after him, every bit the crony. Sighing, MacCready stood, appraising the redheaded man, who had watched the Gunners leave with mild fascination.

"Look, pal, if you're preaching about Atom, or looking for a friend, you've got the wrong guy. If you need a hired gun... Maybe we can talk." Maybe, he thought, if you're not as much of a nutjob as you look.

The man grinned. His teeth were unusually straight and clean. Like he actually brushed them on a somewhat regular basis.

"I'm interested. If you think you've got what it takes." MacCready wasn't sure he liked the man's self assured tone, and the slight against his skill wasn't going unnoticed. But caps were caps, and he could put up with a smartass as long as he got his asking price.

"You're joking, right? I've been doing this since I was a kid. I know my way around." He noted the way the man's eyes flicked up and down his person, and the slight smile that quirked the corner of his mouth, and stood up straighter. Almost immediately, he felt like an idiot. Yeah, he knew he was short and skinny. Didn't mean he couldn't hold his own in a fight. "I used to run with the Gunners, for God's sake." He saw a hint of surprise in the man's eyes, and gritted his teeth.

"Huh. Sounds like you can handle yourself. But what about those other guys? I worry that they might throw a wrench in the works."

MacCready laughed.

"If you're worried about Winlock and Barnes, don't be. They couldn't hit a squirrel with a rocket launcher." He narrowed his eyes. "But what about you? How do I know I won't end up with a bullet in my back?" The strange ones were always a force to be reckoned with.

The man grinned again, and pulled a- was that deathclaw hide?- makeshift wallet from his belt. "All I can give you is my word," he paused, pulling out a handful of shrapnel, "and a bunch of caps."

That had his attention. "Bunch of caps, huh? Okay, hotshot. Price is 250 caps, up front. And there's no room for bargaining."

"You've got yourself a deal." The stranger counted out two large bundles of caps and five much smaller ones. Clearly he kept them in groups for easy bartering. MacCready had to admire his preparedness, just a touch. Feeling much better about the man once his pockets were weighed down a little more, he reciprocated the man's smile, showing far less teeth. "Alright... Boss. You got yourself an extra gun. Lead on."

"Name's Nate, by the way. Not that I'll begrudge you calling me that." Another of his almost sharklike smiles.

"You can call me MacCready."

 

Yep, MacCready thought later. He's a strange one alright. His new boss had taken him to some creepy-ass building which had used to be some old factory. The place was swarming with super mutants, and the rank smell of half rotted meat made him feel slightly sick. He usually tried to stay away from these guys, though he did occasionally take one or two out from a distance. But Nate... Nate wanted to go straight in there. As they got closer, Nate drew out an old sword. It was long and sharp, and its hilt suggested Chinese origin. MacCready wondered where he had found it. More pressing a question, though, was,

"Do you really want to fight a ton of super mutants in close combat? You know they're stupidly strong, right?"

"They're also stupidly stupid. And I've done it a million times before." He smirked at MacCready's incredulous expression. "Cover me." And with that he stepped out from behind the wall and charged the nearest hulking green monstrosity. MacCready almost yelled in surprise at the sudden move, and fumbled to get his gun out. He stayed in the doorway, aiming at the mutants on the factory floor with Nate. He had to admit, the insane bastard was doing a great job of keeping the enemy distracted so they didn't notice they were being picked off one by one. And... He was going sword to super sledge with one of them and seemed to actually be winning, dodging and blocking before jabbing at the thing's exposed skin through its armour and laughing- actually laughing- as it bled. MacCready blinked, then snapped out of it, realising he had been neglecting his targets as he'd watched his new employer's antics.

 

They fought their way through the building with relative ease, though at some point Nate had taken a spiked board to the side and was nursing a gash which was bleeding steadily. MacCready had suggested he take a stimpak, but Nate had cheerfully refused, stating that they were precious supplies and he only used them when absolutely necessary, since it was something that would heal on its own just fine. Still, he did wash out the cut with vodka and bandage it up to the best of his ability. He'd had MacCready do most of the vodka part, since in his words it 'stung like a swarm of wasps that had been set on fire'. Still, despite a lot of loud swearing he had endured it pretty well, and hopefully the risk of infection was reduced as a result.

Finally, they reached the very top of the building, where an office, clearly for whoever used to be in charge around here, yielded what the redhead had been looking for.

"Bingo." He looked overly proud of himself as he held up a little model of Vault Tec's favourite mascot.

Oh yeah, MacCready thought. That's another thing. The man seems to value prewar junk above his own life. So far he seemed to have picked up everything that wasn't nailed down, picking locks, looting bodies and even reaching into toilets for god's sake, for seemingly useless crap like boxes of old cleaner, coffee mugs and tin cans. When MacCready had asked him exactly what he planned on doing with all the junk he picked up, all he got in response was a wink and a "You'll see."

Leaving the old, now abandoned factory behind them, Nate proceeded to lead MacCready through the Wasteland, occasionally pausing to shoot a bloatfly. They didn't talk much. Nate did try to start up a conversation a few times but MacCready only replied with single syllable responses, choosing instead to contemplate just what he's gotten himself into. Curiously, and a little annoyingly, this didn't seem to put off the man. He remained cheerful throughout the whole trip, singing along to the radio, which played quietly from some weird contraption he had around his wrist. It looked very similar to the things the vaulties from 81 wore, and MacCready couldn't help but wonder if he'd stolen it, or maybe even killed one of them for it. Unless he was a runaway from 81. But no one left that place, except to trade. And all the other vaults around the Commonwealth were dead. Had been for decades, if not centuries.

He was pulled from his reverie as they headed towards a settlement surrounded by a thick concrete wall. Turrets littered the perimeter, but none of them were aimed at the two travellers. The large sign over the door proclaimed 'WELCOME TO COVENANT'. MacCready knew this place. He'd tried to visit a while back, but they'd wanted him to take some kind of test, and honestly he'd felt victimised under the gaze of its citizens, so he'd quickly left and never came back.

"What are we doing here? This place creeps me out."

Nate smiled. "Yeah, I felt the same when I first got here. Turns out the folks were a lot worse than just creepy. Place is ours now."

"Wait, what? Ours?"

"Me and whichever friends I manage to make out here." At MacCready's glare, he laughed. "Don't worry. I know you're not in it for friendship. But hey, why not get in on some of the benefits of living here anyway? I've set the place up nicely." He pushed open the doors, holding one open for his companion. The first thing MacCready noticed was that the place was a lot more relaxed than before. All the meticulously painted picket fences were gone, as well as the people wearing their fake smiles and overly upbeat manner. There were people here, though. It seemed to be a weird mix. MacCready thought he recognised a woman in a red coat; he'd seen her around Goodneighbour before. She was chatting animatedly to another woman, who looked suspiciously like a raider, red hair scruffy, dressed in what looked like leather and covered in bruises and cuts.

"Afternoon, General." A man looked up from his work tending to a small garden in the corner, tipping his hat at Nate as he arrived.

"Afternoon, Preston. Nothing interesting happened while I was away?"

"No more than the usual. There's always work to be done. I take it the super mutant problem's been dealt with?"

"You know it." Nate grinned. "Oh, and say hi to MacCready. I hired him to be my new bodyguard." MacCready scowled at Nate a little as the man, Preston, turned his attention to him.

"Bodyguard, huh? Didn't think you'd need one of those." He smiled genially. "Hi, I'm Preston Garvey, Commonwealth Minutemen. Always happy to help, should you need it."

"Wait, Minutemen? I thought you guys were all gone?"

Preston grimaced. "Yeah, we went through a rough patch. But thanks to Nate here, we're on our way back. He's been working real hard to pull the Commonwealth back together. Honestly, I think he might be the best general we've ever had, and since Becker, that's saying something."

MacCready turned to Nate in surprise. "You're the general of the Minutemen?"

Nate performed a mock bow. "At your service. Got the uniform and everything."

"...Is there anything else I should know about you?"

Nate laughed, and Preston smirked a little.

"Wait, don't tell me you didn't tell this poor man your tragic backstory and insane mission before hiring him."

"Eh, it didn't come up. Well, I've got a story for the campfire tonight, that's for sure."

MacCready wasn't sure what to make of all this. This was certainly unlike any other job he'd been hired to do, and as a consequence he wasn't entirely sure how to react.

Right beside the garden was a workstation, upon which various tools and scrap rested. Nate began unloading his haul, sorting all the items into groups. When all his junk was safely stored, he headed up to the house at the far end of the settlement. Unlocking the door, he went inside. MacCready followed, noting that the house was sturdy, secure and relatively clean, a miracle in the Commonwealth. It even had a doormat, which MacCready stopped on, before wiping his shoes, feeling very much out of place. There was a clean double bed, with a duvet and pillows, a bureau which had a few models of robots and other knick-knacks on its shelves, a blue Vault-Tec display stand with a number of bobble heads looking very similar to the one Nate had found in the factory on it, and several other items of furniture. In the corner of the room, next to a writing desk was a floor safe, which Nate unlocked and began filling with all the weapons he'd picked up. He seemed to have a place for everything as he unloaded everything he was carrying; folders, keys and the like went in the desk drawers, armour and clothes went in the bureau's drawers and off to the side, in what looked like a sort of conservatory, was an ice cooler which contained food, drink and chems. MacCready didn't think he'd ever seen so many supplies in one place. Nate saw his expression, and tossed him a beer. It was ice cold.

"When you go out scavenging on a daily basis, you find a lot of stuff. I got anything you could possibly want in here. Could cook up a full three-course meal if I wanted to."

A thought occurred to MacCready as he cracked open his beer with his teeth. "Those chems. Do you use them?" MacCready didn't really want to be travelling with an addict.

"Nah, not really. Mostly I sell 'em. They're worth a fair amount and otherwise they'd just sit here gathering dust." He grimaced. "I think some people here would prefer it if I just threw them in the fire, but a lot of the stuff I want to get my hands on is expensive, and it'd take an awful lot of saving up to afford them otherwise. I'm eyeing up a chestplate Kleo's offering, but she wants nearly seventeen thousand caps for it. Seventeen thousand! Still, that thing looks like it could give a deathclaw pause, so I want it."

"Huh. I didn't realise the chem trade was so profitable. Maybe I should look into it."

"I should teach you how to use a chemistry station first. The rarer the stuff you can make, the higher the price you'll get for it." He paused. "Speaking of which, give me your rifle."

"What?" MacCready's hand tightened around the strap which held the rifle slung over his shoulder.

"I can fix it up for you. Make it even better. I did tell you I was gonna show you what all the junk is for."

The merc frowned. He wasn't sure about this. His rifle was precious to him. Nate rolled his eyes, then pulled out a gun of his own. "Used to be a regular old hunting rifle. Now it's one of my best tools. For when a sword isn't good enough, of course."

MacCready turned the gun over in his hands. It had an elongated barrel, a large magazine and a padded stock, so he could tell the recoil would be practically nonexistent. And above all that, it had a scope that looked incredibly high-tech. Nate looked smug.

"You made this?" MacCready was impressed. Sure, he could tell it was handmade from the mismatched nature of the pieces and here and there a dried bead of wonderglue tarnished an otherwise smooth joint between components but otherwise the craftsmanship was amazing.

"Yup. Using all that useless junk."

"Wow." He bit his lip, before unslinging his rifle and handing it over. "Alright. Go nuts. But if you ruin it, you're buying me a new one."

"Have faith." Nate took the gun, handling it with care. He held it up, running his fingers lightly over the barrel. "It's a very nice gun..."

"I know. Been by my side for years."

"I can tell." His thumb brushed over a scratch on the stock, one of many collected over the years. After the brutality bordering sadism that MacCready had seen him display at the factory it almost shocked him to see such tenderness. "I promise I'll have it back to you by the end of the day."

With that, he left the house, leaving MacCready to his beer. The merc decided to explore a little, maybe speak to some of the inhabitants of the little village.

There were four buildings in the settlement. The house at the top, which Nate used as his room and for storing all his loot, was normally kept locked, but he left a key in a drawer in the main bunkhouse so that if any of the other inhabitants wanted something from his stores, they could take it. MacCready was surprised by this level of trust; there was nothing to stop one of them taking everything they could carry and bolting, but apparently they liked him enough to stay loyal. Either that or they just enjoyed the benefits of living with him. The redheaded raider-looking girl, Cait, had been all too eager to explain to him which it was when she caught him on the veranda.

"Well hello, handsome." She stated in a thick Irish accent. "You're a new face, aren't ya?"

"Uh, hi." MacCready smiled a little awkwardly.

"So where'd ol' Vaultie over there pick you up then?"

"Vaultie? He's from 81?"

Cait laughed. "Nah, I'll let him tell ya that story. It's a good one, I promise." She winked at him. He felt his cheeks burn a little.

"Alright... I met him at the Third Rail. He offered me caps to come with him."

"Caps, huh? So you're a merc. Not one o' them Gunners now are ya?"

MacCready laughed nervously. "Funny story actually. I might have deserted them, and now they have a bit of a grudge against me."

"Aw, don't you worry about it. Nate's not the sort o' guy to judge on background. Trust me, I should know."

"What's your background then?"

"I'm an ex Combat Zone fighter. Nate picked me up after Tommy cut me loose."

"Oh, wow. Must've been fun."

"It was a shithole. But it put a roof over my head and caps in my pocket, so it could've been worse. O' course, now I'm a hell of a lot better off. I owe Nate me life."

Cait didn't seem to be the only one. There were four people living here, not including Nate, plus two Mr Handys, one of whom seemed to be malfunctioning, because he only ever talked about lemonade. The other was apparently Nate's own robot butler. MacCready wondered where he'd picked him up, and if he could get one. The only other inhabitant was a large German Shephard by the name of Dogmeat, who had given MacCready pause at first but who turned out to be completely harmless and a big softy, despite all the barking. The biggest surprise of the bunch was when he walked through the doorway into the bunkhouse and ran into a guy in a worn trenchcoat and fedora. He'd started to apologise only to jump back in alarm when he looked up and met the glowing yellow eyes of a synth. His hand jumped to where his gun usually was, but the synth held up a skeletal metal hand.

"Woah, woah, slow down. You must be new around here. I promise I'm no crony of the Institute. Name's Nick Valentine."

MacCready stopped. "Nick Valentine? The Nick Valentine?"

Nick chuckled. He had a very pleasant voice to listen to. "The one and only."

"...And I suppose Nate's the one who got you out of that drama they reported on the radio?"

"Yup, you would be right on that count."

"You're kidding." MacCready had meant that as a joke. "What is this guy, some kind of hero?"

Nick laughed again. "I don't know what he is, but whatever it is, the Commonwealth could do with more like him."

"Huh..." Nate was becoming more and more interesting the more MacCready found out about him. At first, he'd seemed like just another crazy drifter. Then he'd appeared to be a kleptomaniac with a healthy dose of bloodlust about him. And now he was apparently some kind of do-gooder hero type. It just didn't seem to fit together nicely.

The rest of the little town was made up of a house with two bunk beds and a few amenities in, clearly just for sleeping, another building with a further three beds and a little office type area off to the side, which was somewhat messy. Apparently that was where Nick worked through his cases when he stayed here instead of going back to Diamond City. The last building seemed to be a bar or social area of some sort. There were bottles of various liquours and stacks of shot glasses, as well as a radio and a few armchairs off to one side as well as barstools by the bar itself. No one seemed to run the bar, people just came in and helped themselves when they wanted to. There were also a few pristinely preserved packets of cigarettes, one of which MacCready took, still feeling like he was stealing despite the free-for-all nature of the place. But perhaps the most impressive part of the town was Nate's little workshop area around the back of his house. There were work stations for armour, weapons, chems and healing supplies and even a power armour station upon which rested a very impressive looking set of power armour. Beside it stood three- _three_ \- spare power armour frames, as well as a big metal box of various parts. That was where Nate was currently, and he seemed to be carefully wiring a circuit board into what looked like a half-made scope like the one on his own rifle. He gave MacCready a grin and a half wave as he saw him approach.

"Getting there." He stated. "This is the most complicated part."

"I'll leave you to it then." MacCready responded, and decided to head to the bar. He lit up a cigarette and poured himself a whiskey, switching on the radio. Honestly, he was beginning to understand why Nate seemed to have so many friends. This place was beyond luxury to someone like him, who spent most of his life in the backs of dusty bars and sleeping on bloodstained mattresses in half-destroyed buildings. Here, there was fresh food, fresh water, free drink, good company and more weaponry than you could shake a stick at. He found himself wondering if Nate would let him stay once his contract was up. From the way he seemed to treat everyone else, he just might.

The red-coated reporter, Piper, found him in the bar and sat down with a drink of her own.

"Settling in, huh?"

"Well, this place is nice. I gotta hand it to him, he really knows how to set a guy up."

"Yeah, Blue's got a heart of gold, beneath all the crazy."

MacCready tapped his ash into an impressively clean ash tray on the bar. "Why d'you call him Blue?"

"Oh, I guess it's not as obvious now as it was when I met him. It was that bright blue vault suit he wore. He's traded it out for some good old road leathers now. Bad memories, I reckon, though he still keeps it tucked away somewhere."

"Which vault is he from? Cait told me he's not from 81, but wouldn't say any more than that."

"111." She replied.

MacCready frowned. "Don't think I've heard of that one."

"It's up in the north west. Was sealed up pretty tight, until Blue got out."

"...There're still people in that one then?"

Piper's face fell. "Nope. Blue's the only one. That's his story to tell though. I did write an article about it in the paper, but if you're gonna be his friend you probably want to hear it firsthand."

MacCready looked down at the glass in his hand. He had said that he wasn't in the market for friends, but as time went on he wondered if that statement would stand.

True to his word, as the sun was setting Nate found MacCready and handed him back his gun. MacCready's head was feeling pleasantly fuzzy after a few glasses of whiskey, and as he took back the gun he whistled. It had many of the same enhancements as Nate's own rifle, but the grip and stock were a slightly different shape, clearly made to be lightweight and steady rather than for comfort. He checked the safety and held it up, looking down the scope. The magnification was miles better than his old scope.

"And it tracks enemies too." Nate announced proudly.

"How?" MacCready looked back at the man, lowering the rifle.

"Used a circuit board from a turret. Wired it up to a heat vision sensor."

"Huh." He wasn't sure what to say. "Uh... Thanks. A lot. This is really cool. Do I owe you anything?"

"Nah." Nate gave him a wry smile. "Since you're gonna be watching my back I figure it's sort of an insurance policy. Speaking of which..." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pistol. It had been modded too, but not to the same extent as the rifle. "Here. Take this. I know short range isn't your thing but it's for just in case an enemy slips past your guard. Don't worry, I have way too many of these."

"Alright. Thanks." MacCready took it, and slipped it into the pocket of his duster.

"Right. I think it's time we ate something, don't you?"

"Yeah, probably." Come to think of it, he was kinda hungry.

"Hey Piper, you gonna join us?"

"Sure thing Blue. Make enough for everyone, won't you?"

"Of course."

 

Nate ended up making noodles for everyone. Along with some freshly chopped tatos and carrot and a fair helping of grilled radstag, it made for the best meal MacCready had had since... Well, ever, really. They all sat around a campfire, a slowly bubbling pot containing the leftovers hung over it. Slowly, the sun set and it got dark, the crackling fire the only source of heat and warmth. MacCready put his empty bowl aside and pulled his duster tighter about him, feeling full for the first time in far too long. His head had cleared up a bit since the meal, and he was thinking through everything he'd learned today. Everyone seemed to be chatting amiably; Piper seemed to be discussing a case with Nick, which Nate occasionally chipped in with, and Cait and Preston were sat close together, looking about the unlikeliest pair of friends in the Commonwealth.

"So. Nate." MacCready finally spoke up as he caught the redhead between conversations. "You're a vaultie, are you?"

"Did the pipboy give me away?"

"Nah. Cait told me. Then Piper said you're from 111, which is one I've never heard of. What was it like?"

"What, the vault?" He seemed to smirk a little at a thought he had. "Cold."

That... Was not the answer MacCready had expected.

"In all honesty I didn't really get to experience 'living' in it, per se..."

"But... You were born in there, right?"

"Nope."

MacCready was confused. "But..."

"I was born in Sanctuary. Lived there most of my life." That made no sense. "In the year 2052."

MacCready's racing thoughts ground to a halt. "Wait... What?" Did he hear that right?

"Yup." Nate seemed to be enjoying blowing MacCready's mind like that. "I'm a 21st century kid."

The merc did some quick maths in his head. "You're _two hundred and thirty five years old_?!" The others seemed to have noticed their conversation now and were listening in. "What are you, some special kind of ghoul or something? Created by some freaky Vault-Tec experiment?"

"No and yes. I am not a ghoul, but the reason I am still alive today is because of Vault-Tec. See, 111 had basically nothing in it except staff quarters, because all us regular citizens were herded into cryostasis pods the second the bombs fell. Basically I've spent the last two hundred and ten years as a human popsicle. Physically I'm only 25."

"Holy shit... I mean-" MacCready blushed as he realised he'd let a swear slip out. "Why didn't the rest of you come out? Are they all still frozen?"

Nate grimaced. "Yeah, but they're not gonna wake up any time soon. I was the only survivor. Except for..." He broke off, taking a breath. "Except for my son, Shaun."

"You... You have a son?" MacCready's breath caught. "Where is he?"

"That's the fun part. After a little bit of digging we uncovered sufficient evidence to believe Shaun is with the Institute."

For the second time that night, MacCready's thoughts stopped. "The Institute." He stated dumbly. "As in, the boogeyman of the Commonwealth Institute."

"Yup. That's the one."

"And you... You're planning to go after him?"

"One way or another, yes."

MacCready swallowed nervously. "You're gonna have to pay me a lot more than 250 caps to follow you into there, boss."

"Something tells me that's something I'm going to have to do alone." Nate stated with a strange solemnity.

"Well, Blue, you got us." Piper smiled at him from across the fire. "If we can help, we will."

"Yeah." Preston added. "Don't forget, you've got the whole of the Commonwealth's Minutemen at your back, General."

Nate returned the smile, and somehow this one was much more genuine than the smirks and grins he gave everyone most of the time. "Thanks."

 

After everyone had finished eating and the pot was scraped clean, they broke out the beers. After a few rounds, everyone was good tempered and content. Cait had her head rested on Preston's shoulder in a way that made MacCready wonder if there was something more than friendship between them. All of a sudden, he felt a pang of sadness. He wanted someone to lean on his shoulder like that. He wanted tenderness, love. He wanted Lucy.

He sighed solemnly, and Nate glanced over.

"You alright?"

"Mhm." He murmured. Somewhere in his mind, a voice told him he probably didn't want to talk about it with someone he'd just met. His boss, no less. But he was drunk and emotional, and those two traits often result in conversations regretted the following morning. "I miss my wife."

"You were married?" MacCready nodded. "What happened?"

"Pack of ferals. I couldn't save her."

Nate was quiet for a moment. "I understand."

MacCready made a derisive noise in the back of his throat.

"No, really. I had a wife too. Ever. Well, that's what she liked to be called. Short for Evelyn." He paused for a moment, solemn. "She came into the Vault with me. The Institute fuckheads who took Shaun killed her while I watched. Stuck in my little prison. Completely helpless." His hand went to the pocket of his leather jacket absentmindedly. "Yeah. I miss her too."

MacCready watched him closely as he pulled out a pair of golden rings. He never stopped to consider that if he had a son, he must have had a wife too. He was suddenly struck by how similar their lives were. A lost wife, a son in danger. Nate shook his head, replacing the gold bands in his pocket and smiling again. "But that was then. This is now. No point in lamenting about the past, am I right?" And he met MacCready's eyes, holding up his bottle. The younger man noticed that, despite being relatively young, physically at least, Nate already had lines by his eyes. They made him look happier, somehow. MacCready imagined that his life before the Vault must have been a good one. He held up his own drink, and they clinked softly.

It got late, and people were moving into the sleepy stage of drunkenness, so they decided to retire for the night. Nate picked up all the empty bottles and added them to the junk at the workstation. Nick put the fire out as Piper headed to the bunkhouse, singing under her breath. At some point, Preston had fallen asleep on the ground, his hat over his eyes, snoring softly. Cait tried to wake him and failed, so she rolled her eyes, taking his hat and placing it on her own head, and then scooping him up in her arms and carrying him to bed. MacCready watched in mild amusement, noting that he should never get in a fistfight with the Irishwoman if she could pick up and carry a fully grown man like it was nothing. He soon realised, though, that he didn't know where he should sleep. He asked Nate as much.

"Oh, wherever you want. In the bunkhouse, with the others. If you want more privacy, no one's taken up in Nick's office yet, though I can't promise Nick won't wake you up first thing trying to get at his case files. He doesn't really sleep, see, so he likes to work early in the morning, before everyone else wakes up. Or..." He winked at him. "You can always share my bed." MacCready blushed furiously, eyes wide. Nate laughed. "Don't worry. Our relationship is strictly business. My advice is take the last bunk bed. If you can abide the snoring, that is."

MacCready nodded. "Alright. Night, boss."

"Night Mac." The merc was a little surprised at the nickname, but he let it slide. Nate sauntered past him into his house, and shut the door. When MacCready entered the bunkhouse, all the lights were off except for a torch which Piper held. She was sat up on the bottom bunk of one of the beds, scribbling in her notebook. Both Preston and Cait were completely out. Preston was still fully dressed, save for his hat, which was hung off the bedpost. Cait, on the other hand... MacCready averted his eyes as he saw that Cait was sprawled out on her bed in nothing but a tight, dirty white vest top and panties. Piper waved at him. She was dressed slightly more modestly in a loose-fitting green dress shirt.

"New story?" He whispered as he took off his boots and jacket.

"Yup. 'The Maniac and the Merc', detailing how our favourite Vault dweller stooped low enough to hire an ex Gunner." She laughed when she saw MacCready's expression. "I'm kidding you. I'm writing a story on Vault 75. Apparently that one was for 'genetic refinement'. It's all very disturbing. Perfect news story material."

"Sounds fascinating." Stripping down to his boxers, he left his clothes in a small folded pile on the floor beside the chest of drawers and then climbed to the top bunk of the bed. He felt very exposed. Most of the time, he slept in his armour, being out in the wasteland. He knew Covenant was safe; the doors were locked, he was surrounded by nine foot concrete walls and there were turrets around the whole perimeter. But even so, it felt wrong. Still, when he climbed into the bed, feeling soft, slightly cool sheets and a mattress that didn't feel like a slab of rock or smell like blood and piss and worse things, he fell asleep almost immediately.

 


	2. Ghouls and Ghosts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ah, Dunwich Borers. Just another raider pit, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man this story is just flowing off the keys. I wonder how long that'll last. By the way, for those wondering, the sword is Kremvh's Tooth and it is one of my favourite weapons in the whole game. Go get it if you haven't already.

He slept late. The combination of the soft bed, the full stomach and the after effects of too much beer meant he didn't wake up until the sun was high in the sky. When he finally did, it took him a moment to remember where he was. His mouth felt thick and his throat was dry, but his head didn't hurt any worse than a dull ache, so he figured he didn't go overboard the night before. Sitting up, he realised that the room was empty, everyone else having woken up. Climbing out of bed, he pulled his clothes back on and went outside, looking for the others.

"Hey, Mac! Good night?" Nate called to him from the workstation on the other side of the settlement. Preston was tending to the garden again, and Cait was helping this time. Piper was sat on the stairs of Nate's house with her notebook again. The robot butler, Codsworth, drifted past MacCready to a line of small hedges and began trimming them, despite the fact that they looked fine. Dogmeat ran through the settlement, barking as he chased what seemed to be a small grey cat. Nick was nowhere to be seen. MacCready assumed he was at his desk, like Nate had said he would be.

"Yeah. Best night's sleep I've had in a while, actually."

"Good, because we're heading out again today. I got word there's a tribe of raiders living over in Dunwich Borers."

"The old quarry?"

"That's the one. You up for a party?" He grinned that sharklike grin again, and pressed a box of sugar bombs into his hand. "Eat up. You're gonna want to be at full strength for this."

After breakfast, Nate pulled on his armour and retrieved his sword, rifle and handgun. MacCready did the same, slinging his new, improved rifle over his shoulder. He stocked up on ammo and healing supplies, and they said goodbye to the others. Nate turned the radio on again, humming along, and together they set out through the wastes.

Dunwich Borers wasn't miles away. The huge hole in the ground was visible from a distance thanks to the quarried limestone surrounding its edges. There were a few raiders skirting the perimeter of the pit, which they took out easily. Nate did join MacCready in shooting them at first, but when they realised where the shots were coming from and started to run towards them, Nate drew his sword and matched them, running forwards. A few of the raiders had melee weapons, but most had pipe guns which were not very effective at close range, so Nate didn't have much trouble taking them out. MacCready winced a little as he straight up beheaded one of the raiders, blood spraying everywhere.

With the top level cleared, they began to head further into the quarry. Nate always went first, with MacCready following him with his gun, ready to take out any raiders that looked like they might be trouble. They got halfway down, when Nate muttered, "Shit. They got a suit." MacCready was confused as to what he meant for a moment, but then he caught sight of the raider in full power armour.

"What's the plan, boss?"

"Injure him or decommission as much of his armour as possible from here. Then I'll use the holes to take him down."

"You got it." MacCready readied his rifle, aiming it at the suited raider. Through his new scope, he could see the raider close enough to find weak spots in his armour. Unfortunately, this one was smart enough to wear a full helmet, meaning he couldn't just fell the bastard with a headshot. Instead, he targeted joints, aiming at the juncture between the chestpiece and the arms. The first shot he fired sparked off the armour, causing the raider to raise his weapon and look around in the general direction of the shot. Failing to catch sight of the sniper, he was caught unawares several more times. Eventually, one of the bullets hit a vital spot, and the raider's arm dropped, no longer being held up by its internal matrix. MacCready switched targets as the raider swore and ditched the armour on that arm, before ordering a bunch of others up the ramp and taking up a gun himself.

"Alright, keep shooting as long as you can." Nate put his hand on MacCready's shoulder for a moment, startling him a little, before standing up from behind their hiding place and brandishing his sword once more. MacCready saw a few of the raiders shout and point in their direction, causing others to look up. Nate headed down to meet them as MacCready aimed to take out the suited raider's other arm as well. He very nearly switched targets as he watched Nate take on four raiders at a time as they ran up to meet him. He seemed to be taking a few hits, but they were definitely coming off worse, and the power armour took priority.

The hulking steel monstrosity was upon Nate sooner than he would have liked, but he was down both arms and his chestplate was taking damage, plus Nate had dispatched his comrades very thoroughly, so it was a one on one fight. Well, one on two, if MacCready counted.

The frame of the power armour was still there, even if the armour itself wasn't, so Nate couldn't straight up slash at the raider's exposed skin. Instead he played a risky game of jabbing the blade into the holes in the armour, leaving bleeding gashes all up and down the raider's arms. The raider fought back, forgoing his gun for what looked like a large wrench, and attempting to bash him over the head with it. For all his strength, though, Nate was much faster without all that metal encasing him, and as a consequence he managed to find an opening to thrust his sword into the gap in the side of the man's armour, dealing a fatal blow. The suited raider fell to the ground, his armour making a deafening noise as it hit the stone ground. Nate heaved a breath as MacCready stood and ran down towards him.

"You alright? That looked rough."

"Yeah, I'm fine." The taller man had a graze on his cheek which was weeping blood, and he had a hand pressed to his side.

"What happened to your side?"

"Took a bit of blunt trauma. Good news is it doesn't hurt to breathe so I probably haven't broken anything."

"That's... Reassuring." MacCready frowned. "Are we done here then?" He glanced around. There were no more raiders to be seen. But Nate laughed.

"Not even close. See over there?" He pointed his sword at a tunnel in the side of the quarry. "I'm betting there are more of them in there. And even if there aren't, I want to see what's in there."

"You're nuts, you know that?"

"Mac, I was trapped in an icebox for more than two centuries. That does things to a man." He wiped the blood from his sword off on a dead raider's clothes and sheathed it again.

"Fair point." He helped Nate loot the corpses, taking anything that could be considered valuable, and then followed him into the tunnel. It was crudely sectioned off with a scrap fence and shoddy lock. Nate pulled out a screwdriver and bobby pin. He had it open in seconds.

Inside, it was dark as hell, save for a few cracked lanterns here and there. The tunnel led straight down. MacCready didn't like it; something about the stale air and the oppressive darkness made him feel more than a little claustrophobic. The feeling threw him off; surely growing up in a cave system not too different should have made him immune to that sort of feeling, and yet... somehow this felt heavier, more suffocating. It felt wrong. From time to time, MacCready caught sight of a skeleton, which wasn't a rare occurance by any means, but every now and then they were joined by a raider corpse from far more recently, which was vaguely unnerving. It was a little way before they encountered their first live raider, standing lookout atop some metal scaffolding. MacCready felled him with a headshot before he saw them. Nate stopped to hack a terminal and loot the body. MacCready noticed Nate frowning a little as he read the messages on the terminal.

"What? What's on there?"

"Nothing important." Nate stated. "Just that the guys working here back in my day really seemed to care about safety." His tone was laced with sarcasm. "We should watch our footing." MacCready nodded, and tried to ignore the prickle of sweat down the back of his neck.

There were a few more raiders as they went further and further into the tunnel, but they seemed to be few and far between. There were a couple more terminals, which seemed to say roughly the same thing as the first. They had been moving for about ten minutes when they felt the first rumble. It seemed to have no source, and it was little more than a low noise in the background, but MacCready grabbed Nate's sleeve.

"What was that?" In his head, MacCready had thoughts of rockfalls and the tunnel caving in, being trapped down here in the dark, choking air until they either starved or suffocated.

"I'm sure it's nothing." Nate said. "Besides, it sounded like it was far away, whatever it was."

MacCready nodded his head and let go, but still felt a growing sense of unease as they progressed. This feeling was increased tenfold when they stopped at the next terminal, which contained one message which was simply one phrase repeated over and over- _I'm safe in the light._

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?!" MacCready asked, trying to keep his voice steady and failing. "I'll tell you what it means. It means we need to get out of here."

"Mac, hey." Nate turned to him, his voice betraying mild worry. He rested his hand on MacCready's shoulder and smiled comfortingly. "This message is two hundred years old. Whatever it meant, it's irrelevant now. The raiders live here, so it can't be that bad. Breathe." MacCready hadn't even noticed that his breathing was uneven, but he closed his eyes, matching the sound of Nate's breaths, and tried to calm his nerves once more.

They reached the end of the raider territory just a little while later, indicated by another badly made door, this one sectioned off with heavy chains. Nearby were a desk and another terminal. Nate took another bobble head from the desk and, once more, read the messages. MacCready examined the door, too freaked out from the last terminal to want to know what was on this one. From this side, they were easy to remove, like it was things on the other side that they needed to keep out.

"I'm not sure we should go down there." MacCready stated as Nate pulled them off and wrenched the door open.

"Why not?"

"Raiders are dumb. If even they figured out they needed to chain themselves off, whatever's in there can't be good."

"Raiders are also weak. Whatever it is, we can take it." MacCready didn't respond, but kept a hand on his rifle as they moved forward. The way forward was dark, and he couldn't stop himself mentally repeating the mantra _I am safe in the light. I am safe in the light. I am safe in the light._

The next enemy they encountered was a group of ferals. MacCready pulled out the pistol Nate had given him, given barely enough time to react as one rushed at him. They moved too fast to hit with a rifle. He felt an all too familiar tightness in his chest as it bore down on him, but he emptied his gun into it as it scratched at his chest, and it collapsed, gurgling unpleasantly. He looked up, expecting more, only to see that all of them seemed to be dogpiling on Nate. He watched in horror as his boss disappeared beneath flailing limbs and rotting flesh.

"Nate!" He reloaded his pistol as quickly as his shaking hands could and began firing blindly into the mass. He heard inhuman shrieks of pain, and was incredibly relieved when a blade emerged from the back of one of them. One by one, they were hacked to bits from within, and Nate emerged, splattered with black blood.

"Ugh. Those things are disgusting." He saw MacCready, face white as a sheet, death grip on his gun. "Hey... Are you alright?" MacCready took a shaky breath, lowering his gun. "Uh... Yeah. I... I don't like ferals." Something flitted across Nate's face, but he didn't press the issue. Instead, he just nodded. "I'll take the lead. Don't worry, I can handle myself."

The ominous rumbling occurred a few more times as they headed on, but each time Nate ignored it and MacCready did his best to do the same. This place seemed tailor made to freak him out, MacCready noted. He could swear he was hearing things; wet footsteps, squelches and unpleasant noises. He put it down to the ferals, of which they did encounter more. True to his word, Nate took them out, though every time one leapt on him MacCready found himself cursing Nate's up-close and personal fighting style, wishing the man wouldn't put himself so heavily at risk. He did seem to be sustaining wounds, even though he assured his companion that he was fine. MacCready noticed an angry set of scratches on the side of his neck, and his hands were bloody. The merc was grateful that the rest of him was protected by armour.

The air down here felt, if possible, even more oppressive; warm and humid. MacCready was beginning to feel lightheaded, and he swore more than once that he saw people in the shadows. His every nerve was set on edge already, so when another, louder rumble shook the cave, he jumped, breath coming hard and heavy. Even Nate, who was still disturbingly calm, seemed startled.

"Okay that definitely did not sound good. We should get out of here."

"Come on, we must be nearly at the bottom."

" _Nate_." MacCready pleaded.

"It's just a little background noise. Probably just the rock settling."

"Nate, I think there must be some kind of gas leak or something in here. I think I'm hallucinating." MacCready jumped as he caught another flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye.

"I have gas masks, if you want one." Nate replied. "Took 'em off the raiders." The fact that Nate didn't press him for details or call him nuts for seeing things suggested he might have been experiencing them too. That... MacCready wasn't sure if that was reassuring or not.

"No... I want to be able to see properly." It was hard enough already. Nate had switched on the light of his pipboy, casting a creepy green glow over everything, but that was the only source of light there was at this stage. Putting a mask on would render him almost blind. In the ghostly light, MacCready could see the sheen of sweat on Nate's face. Nate was the only familiar thing in this place, and MacCready took comfort in his being there, in the confidence of his smile. It was the only reason he hadn't bolted.

Fortunately, it was only a little further until they reached the end of the cave. It was a round cavern, not much larger than the pathway down, and the majority of it was taken up by a pool. As Nate approached it, his pipboy clicked softly. He looked down into it, but the waters were black.

"That's... That's _it_?" MacCready felt cheated. "We came all this way, all the way to the bottom of this freaking creepy ass cave for a bit of radioactive water?" He found himself glancing over his shoulder. For a second, he thought he heard a voice... chanting? But all he could see was darkness, and when he listened closely, he heard nothing.

Nate was silent for a moment. Then he asked, "We have radaway, right?"

"What? Nate... Nate _no_. You can't be serious."

"I'm going in."

"No you're not. You're really not. Nate, that's a really bad idea." But he was already stripping, laying his weapons and armour to one side.

"There's gotta be something down there. There has to be. Something to make it worth it."

"Jesus Christ, Nate, we don't even know how deep it is! There might be some man-eating radioactive fish down there!" MacCready's mind conjured images of blind, scaleless slimy things lurking at the bottom, ready to strike.

"I doubt it." Nate stood before him in just his boxers and pipboy, shining the light down into the water. MacCready could see scars on him, his skin white in the cold light. He dipped his toe into the water. "Good news is it's warm. Must be heated by geothermal energy."

"Geowhatnow?"

"Energy released from the Earth's core."

"Uh..." MacCready wasn't sure what to make of that. "Okay?" He heard his voice break a little on the last syllable.

Nate sat down at the edge of the pool, dangling his legs in the water, then pushed himself in. MacCready winced as he went under for a moment, then resurfaced. He half expected the man to go under in a mess of blood and bubbles, dragged down by some carnivorous thing. When he treaded water for a moment and nothing happened, MacCready let out a breath.

"Okay. Look after my stuff, I won't be a minute."

"Nate no!" He scrambled to the edge, but Nate had already taken as big a breath as he could and dived. MacCready watched in horror as the green light faded into blackness, leaving him alone in the dark. The cavern was utterly silent. He could hear his own shallow breaths, but that was the only sound. Fighting down panic, MacCready waited. Surrounded by darkness, and with nothing to mark the seconds as the passed, he had no idea how long Nate had been down there. He tried counting, but he had no idea how accurate he was. It must have been a minute already. No, two. Maybe even three. Nate couldn't hold his breath that long, he couldn't. He'd gotten stuck down there. He was drowning. Something had caught him. MacCready was stuck in this nothingness forever, alone and with no light to be able to find his way out, surrounded by ghostly shapes, sounds that he didn't really hear and his mantra, _I'm safe in the light_. But he was not in the light. He was in pitch black darkness, and he was going to go crazy in here, if something didn't get him first. Whatever it was that got the prewar workers, whose skeletons littered the whole mine, and the raiders whose bodies hid in dark corners and at the bottom of pits. The tightness in his chest returned, and his head spun with distress. The silence in his ears became a rush, and he swore he could feel his own heart beating painfully in his chest. Still, his fingers gripped at the rock at the water's edge and he stared into the blackness.

He was beginning to hyperventilate when he saw a faint glow from below the water's surface. At first, he thought his mind was playing tricks on him, but the light grew brighter, and suddenly the silence was split open as Nate broke the surface of the water, gulping at air like a man half drowned, clawing at the side. MacCready almost screamed, laughing in relief and holding out a hand to help Nate out of the water. Nate grabbed at it, and MacCready pulled him to the side, and he threw something to one side, where it clattered noisily. He clung to the rock, still gasping, coughing and spitting out water.

"I think... I think it's in my brain..." He finally managed to say, his voice hoarse. He pressed a hand to his forehead for a moment, then hoisted himself out with MacCready's help. MacCready felt water seeping through the arms and chest of his jacket as Nate collapsed practically on top of him.

"You nearly gave me a heart attack!" MacCready hit the man's shoulder, too flooded with relief to react to their close proximity. "I thought you'd drowned and I was going to be lost down here forever! Never do that again!"

Nate laughed that hearty, warm laugh and rolled off him, lying on his back. "Not gonna lie, I thought I was gonna drown too for a moment there. I think that might be the longest I've ever held my breath." He took a moment longer, then sat up, looking for something. He scrabbled around for a bit, then picked up the thing he had thrown aside, holding it up to inspect it. It was a sword, about as long as MacCready's arm and with a machete grip. From what MacCready could see in the half light, it was made of a dark metal, and it was the strangest shape the merc had ever seen, twisted and curved, with holes in the blade. It ended in a vicious, sickle-shaped point.

"What... What is that?"

"I have no idea." Nate inspected it closely. "Whatever it is, it looks wicked sharp."

Something in MacCready's mind didn't sit well with this. "I don't think we should take it with us."

"What?" Nate looked at him incredulously. "Mac, like you said, we came all this way. I'm not leaving without a prize."

"I just... I don't like it. This whole place reeks of trouble."

"What are you, some superstitious guy who crosses himself every time a black cat walks across his path?"

MacCready grimaced. "Fine. Take it with you. But if something bad happens, you can bet I'll say I told you so. Now get dressed. And take a radaway before you get sick."

 

Not once in MacCready's twenty-two years of life had he ever been happier to see sunlight. The trip back hadn't been half as harrowing as the trip there; all the ghouls were dead, and the cave's periodic rumbling seemed to have stopped, but even so, MacCready hated every minute of it. Nate had tucked his prize into his belt next to his sword, and followed MacCready out of the cave. When they reached the area lit by lanterns once more, MacCready had breathed a sigh of relief, but he wasn't truly at ease until the tunnel, and all its disturbing contents were far, far behind them. He was still shaking when he and Nate pitched up later, the sun setting on the horizon.

"Hey." Nate sat beside him, having started up a fire. He passed the younger man a box of snack cakes and a canister of water, which MacCready broke into eagerly. "I'm sorry."

MacCready stopped mid bite, looking over at the other man. "Wha' for?"

"For making you follow me in there. Right from the start I knew you weren't comfortable with it. I have to admit, it creeped me out too, but I pushed forwards because I'm as crazy as everyone thinks I am, and because I was painfully curious about what went on in there. I just... I have to remember that not everyone is as insane as I am. So I'm sorry. And I won't blame you if you don't want to travel with me anymore."

"Are you kidding me?" MacCready had said the words before he even thought about it. "Nate, you're the best thing to happen to me for a good long while." He knew he was probably saying too much, but his nerves were shot and honestly, he didn't much care.

"You mean that?" Nate seemed genuinely surprised, which struck MacCready as strange, since so many others seemed to think the same.

"Don't get your hopes up, you haven't got much to contend with." His voice came out a little more bitterly than he intended. Nate laughed.

"Well, I do try. Even if I know I'm not the best company sometimes." He stared into the fire for a moment. "I've been meaning to ask..."

Warning bells immediately sounded in MacCready's head. He'd said too much. Nate was going to ask something personal. Something he wasn't ready to tell him.

"...What's your first name?"

"Wait, that's it?"

Nate smirked. "What, would you rather I asked something harder?"

"No! No, I just..." He tailed off. "Robert. My name's Robert Joseph MacCready."

"Huh." Nate nodded. "Can I call you RJ?"

"Sure... I guess." It sounded weird. No one called him anything but his last name. But he liked it. "Um... What's your last name, then? I assume Nate's your first name."

He chuckled. "You would be right. My last name's Delaney. Nathaniel Elliott Delaney, if you want my full name. But I absolutely forbid you from calling me Ned." He grimaced. "I hate that name." MacCready laughed.

"Nate it is then. Oh, and whilst we're on the subject of stupid questions, why do you wear your hair like that? No offence but it looks dumb."

"Psh, you can talk, hatman."

"Hey." The merc touched his hat a little indignantly. "My hat looks fine."

"Yeah whatever." Nate reached up, tugging lightly on the little ponytail on the back of his head. "I wear it like this because of this." He pulled the band out of his hair and shook his head. His hair fell in his eyes, looking even stupider. MacCready snorted into his water. "See, I used to wear it up like this," he ran his fingers through his overgrown fringe so it sat up in a sort of quiff, looking actually not half bad. For a few seconds maybe, before it fell back over his face. "But that requires hair products and the Commonwealth seems to have a disturbing lack of those." He pulled it back into its ponytail, redoing the band.

"Why don't you just get it cut? There's a hairdresser in Diamond City, you know that right?"

"Eh, I'm kind of fond of it. Yeah it looks a bit odd, but that matches my personality. Maybe I'll cut it when it gets a bit too long, but until then, the dumb ponytail stays, I'm afraid."

MacCready tried to imagine Nate without it, and found that he didn't think it was quite so stupid after all. "I'm sure I'll manage."

 

They took it in turns to sleep, and MacCready found himself lamenting the soft, warm bed back at Covenant, where he was sure the others were just about settling down after another good meal. He wondered who cooked in Nate's absence, and how Nate knew how to cook so well. He imagined Nate back before the war, living a domestic life in a clean, safe house with a wife and child, like the pictures he saw in magazines and on adverts for old cleaning products. He still had trouble believing that this was true, and the battle scarred, bloodstained man sleeping before him didn't look like he would have fit in at all with that kind of image. Still, he held himself differently from everyone else in the wasteland. He didn't have as much fear in his eyes, and he spoke with a diction that didn't quite match anything MacCready had heard before, except maybe on prewar holotapes, and, now he came to think of it, Nick Valentine's voice. The old detective was a synth, so maybe it wasn't too much of a stretch to believe he might be prewar as well, especially since he looked so beat up.

His thoughts turned back to Nate. The man was snoring, sprawled out on the dirt in a way that might have kidded someone who didn't know better into thinking it was comfortable. He had started the nap with a jacket draped over him for extra warmth, but since then he had moved enough for it to fall off. He didn't look cold though, so MacCready let him be. The redhead had a scar over his left eyebrow, MacCready noted with mild interest, as well as on his upper lip. There was also a rough patch on his right jawline where his stubble didn't grow through as thickly. A burn scar maybe? MacCready wondered how he'd gotten it. Some raiders had flamethrowers, he knew, or it could have been an accident at his workstation. The fresher marks of the graze on his cheek and the scratches on his neck were scabbed over now, and they would probably heal without leaving permanent marks of their own, but even so the man had an impressive collection. Those, coupled with what MacCready had seen back by the cursed underground pool suggested either a man who didn't know how to defend himself or a man who was blindingly reckless in his endeavours. Obviously with Nate it was the latter. Honestly it was probably a miracle that he was still alive. MacCready wondered where he'd learned to fight, because he seemed to be pretty damned good at it.

Lost in thought, he almost nodded off and was startled awake when he leaned slightly too far to one side and nearly fell over. Checking the time, he realised he'd been on watch for nearly four hours. Realising that he wasn't going to be much use as a watchman whilst he was this tired, he nudged Nate with his foot.

"Hey." The redhead didn't stir. "Nate." He tried again. The man muttered something indistinguishable under his breath. Changing tactics, MacCready reached out and shook his shoulder gently. Nate groaned. "'M awake, 'm awake..." And rolled over onto his side, nestling his head against MacCready's leg. MacCready wasn't sure how to react to this, so he cleared his throat awkwardly.

"Uh, Nate?"

"Mm?"

"It's... Uh... It's your turn to watch."

Nate yawned, finally opening his eyes and looking up. If he felt weird about his current position, he didn't show it, simply glaring at a slightly red-faced MacCready before sitting up, wiping the sleep from his eyes. "Already?"

"Afraid so."

"Alright, fine." He watched as MacCready yawned. "Get some rest. I'll keep the deathclaws off you." He grinned, and MacCready gave him an unimpressed look as he lay down, wadding up his jacket to make a passable headrest. The dirt was cold and hard, and MacCready curled up, shivering slightly. Still, he was tired enough that his thoughts blurred quickly enough, and he only vaguely registered something being placed over him as he fell asleep.

 


	3. Personal Dilemmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MacCready sees some old friends, Nate gets to play with his new toy and Cait has *gasp* feelings???

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Am I the only one who thinks Cait and Preston are good for each other? Idk I just feel like they're exactly what the other needs and they'd be great for supporting each other. 
> 
> Also there is some grossness in this chapter in terms of injury and squeamishness, so if you're not into that watch out

MacCready woke the next morning feeling stiff all over. Sleeping rough was never a pleasant experience, and now he was paying for it. He sat up, and something slid off him. He looked down and saw Nate's leather jacket on his lap.

"Morning, sunshine." Nate's voice came from beside him. "Sleep well?"

"Well enough." The merc put a hand to his neck, stretching it first to one side, then the other, trying to work out some of the soreness. "Thanks for the jacket." He handed it back.

"No problem."

"Oh, I forgot to ask. How's your side?" With all the drama of the previous day, he'd almost forgotten about Nate's injury, but when he saw him pressing his fingers gingerly against his lower ribs the memory came back.

Nate pulled up his shirt. His whole left side was a patchwork of purple, brown and yellow. It was concentrated just below his ribcage. "Oh man. That looks like it hurts."

"Yup. Turns out a raider in power armour with a heavy enough wrench can do some pretty nasty damage."

"You gonna be okay to fight?"

"I was fine yesterday, wasn't I?"

"Yeah I guess. Don't work yourself too hard."

"Aw, are you worried about me?" Nate smirked at him. "Thought you were just in it for the caps."

"Yeah, well, you got a weird kinda charm about you. Maybe you're not half bad."

"Was that a compliment?" Nate fanned himself with his hand. "Oh RJ, you're getting me all hot and bothered here."

"Shut up you big goof." MacCready punched him lightly on the shoulder, cheeks vaguely pink.

"Make me." Nate stuck his tongue out, then pulled himself up. "Right. I've got one more mission before we go back. Piper wants a typewriter. I promised her I'd get one so she can write up her story properly."

"A typewriter? They're pretty common, aren't they?"

"Yeah. I'm thinking if we head down to Boston there'll be an office building with one we can take. The trick'll be finding one that works."

"Yeah, okay." MacCready got to his feet, picking up his weapons and kicking dirt on the fire.

 

Boston was familiar territory. MacCready found himself keeping an eye out as they wandered the streets, half expecting one of his ex comrades to come round the corner looking for him. He told Nate as much.

"Hey... Um, just to warn you, I might know some guys operating in this area."

"What, Gunners?" Nate looked around, as though expecting them to be watching from the rooftops or something. "Um... If they do attack us, it's okay for me to shoot back, right?"

MacCready blinked. "Well... Yeah. Why wouldn't it be?"

Nate shrugged. "You might have had friends. Just because you fell out with the way of life doesn't necessarily mean you fell out with the people."

The ex Gunner snorted. "Oh trust me. I definitely fell out with the people. I'm pretty sure they'd like to stick my headless corpse on a pike, raider style." Nate grimaced.

"Thanks for that image." His hand went to the hilt of his new sword. "No worries. I can take on Gunners."

"Just... Keep an eye out for snipers, yeah?"

Nate held up his left arm, tapping the screen of his pipboy. "This thing tells me if there are hostiles in the area, don't worry."

"It does?"

"Yup. And which direction they're in as well, though not whether they're above or below me, which can get irritating."

"Wow. Maybe I should get one of those."

Nate laughed. "I doubt they're the kind of thing you can buy in shops."

"Fair point..." There was a gunshot in the distance. Then another, and another. Nate looked up immediately at the noise, reminding MacCready somewhat of a dog who had caught a particularly exciting scent. He laughed a little at the mental image. His companion gave him a look but didn't ask, instead drawing out his sword.

"Nate, it's probably just two raider factions battling it out or something. Not our problem."

"Well then why don't we help them settle the debate?"

MacCready sighed. Of course he had to be saddled with the one guy in the Commonwealth who deliberately went looking for trouble instead of just dealing with it as it came his way.

It turned out that it was raiders, but they were not fighting amongst themselves, but were instead trying to hold position against a group of Gunners. MacCready grimaced as he recognised the pale green combat armour and crudely painted logo. He'd daubed a few too many of those things on the walls of captured buildings in his time. He caught Nate's glance as the taller man glanced over his shoulder at him, and nodded, pulling out and loading his rifle. Stationing himself on the roof of an old RV, he set up and began to take out the raiders stood on the top of the building and leaning out from behind scrap fences. The Gunners were mostly on the ground, which meant they were fair game for Nate's new sword. He seemed to be dispatching them immensely quickly, even faster than normal. MacCready swore he saw one Gunner stumble away from the fight nursing a nasty but clearly non-fatal wound, only to make it halfway down the street and collapse. Was the sword poisoned?

It didn't take them long to clear the front of the building, and Nate, covered in blood splatters and with his blade dripping gore, beckoned MacCready over. The merc reloaded his gun as Nate listened at the door of the building. There were no more shots to be heard, only the low mumble of voices.

"-died down outside. Must've cleared out the ones on the roof. Just gotta wait for Jared's team to finish clearing out the upper floors."

Nate leaned in to murmur to MacCready, "We'll aim to clear them out before their team returns. Hopefully the ones upstairs will take out enough of each other that they won't be too much of a problem."

MacCready didn't respond immediately. He found himself distracted by Nate. The man was close enough that MacCready could feel his breath on his cheek, and it was warm. He smelled like blood.

"RJ?" The man in question blinked, Nate's actual words finally registering with him.

"What? Oh, yeah, clear the lower floors. Got it."

"You alright?"

"Yeah, yeah, just got distracted. I'm fine."

Nate paused, then seemed to accept his response, nodding. "On three."

MacCready raised his gun and flicked off the safety.

"One. Two. Three." He pushed the door open, brandishing his weapon and looking around for something to point it at.

"Well well, if it ain't little Bobby. Long time no see." MacCready winced, grimacing. Nate ground to a halt behind him. The Gunner who had called out to him was lounging on a waiting room style sofa. There were a couple others in the room; a woman with half her hair shaved off and the rest pulled back into a tight blonde ponytail and a taller, heavily scarred man. They had their weapons ready, but they weren't firing.

MacCready laughed nervously. "Hey, Carson. Irene, Gabe."

"Who's your friend? God, you're not running with the fucking raiders now, are ya?"

Nate looked immediately affronted. "What? I'm not-" He started indignantly, then seemed to catch sight of himself in cobbled together metal armour, covered in blood splatters and wearing heavily patched road leathers underneath it all. "Oh. Still, I'm not a raider. Trust me."

"Whatever. If you're not with the raiders, are ya here to come crawling back? Because Winlock's made it very clear that you ain't welcome." Carson lifted his gun, miming pulling the trigger in MacCready's direction, exaggerating the kick and grinning. MacCready swore he heard Nate growl behind him.

"Ooh, you're boyfriend's not very happy with me, is he? He's got two guns trained on him, I'd like to see him try anything."

"He's not my boyfriend." MacCready spat through gritted teeth, face flaming. "And I'm not here to join your stupid death squad."

"No? Then what's to stop me from shooting you right there on our doorstep?"

"Nate?" The redhead stood to attention, clearly itching to go. "Go nuts." And he raised his rifle and fired before Carson could react. His hip-fire accuracy was nowhere near as good as his sighted accuracy, but he managed to nail the Gunner in the shoulder, making him cry out. Irene and Gabe started firing at Nate as he rushed at them, sword in hand. Bullets sparked off of his armour, and one grazed his jaw, but he was too close for them to accurately use their rifles. Gabe switched to a pistol, but before he could fire, Nate cut his hand off. He screamed. Irene pulled out a machete of her own and started parrying his attacks, giving Gabe a chance to back up and find another weapon, shaking from the shock of his injury. MacCready aimed his rifle properly, nailing Carson in the head and then swinging it around to hit Gabe before he could land a hit on Nate. Irene was clearly struggling with her opponent, and MacCready gave it a minute max before she fell. The lobby of the old building went quiet once more, save for Nate's heavy breathing as he wiped his sword off on the sofa cushions.

"Friends of yours?"

"Not really. Carson liked to pick on me. More than once I suggested I shoot his feet off so he could see things from my perspective."

Nate snorted, leaning on MacCready's shoulder. "Well, he has a point, _little_ _Bobby_."

MacCready elbowed him in the ribs, and he retreated, holding his chest and laughing. "Come on, it's cute."

"I am _not_ cute."

Nate pulled a straight face, sobering up. "No, you're right. You're a dangerous man, and I would be absolutely terrified if I was staring down the barrel of your gun." He only held it a second before cracking another grin.

"You will be if you don't shut up." MacCready grumbled.

"Alright, alright, I'm sorry. Let's go." He headed up the stairs. MacCready followed, still faintly embarrassed by the whole exchange.

 

Clearing the building was easy after that. They managed to get the drop on the other group of Gunners, and took them out without any more injury. The very top floor held some very wary raiders, and one did actually manage to get a shot off in MacCready's direction. It wasn't anything to be particularly worried about, being a spray of shot from a crappy sawed-off shotgun to the shoulder, but there was blood on his jacket and it stung enough to make him hiss with pain every time he moved his left arm. As soon as they were dispatched, Nate was on him, checking the wound. MacCready had pushed him away, insisting that it could wait until they were back at Covenant, but he had still seemed concerned, which MacCready wasn't sure how to feel about. Sure, he felt a little indignant, since Nate took injuries all the time and brushed it off like it was no big deal, and he could handle pain just as well as the bigger, older man could. But at the same time, he'd not had someone who genuinely cared about his wellbeing since Lucy. The more he got to know Nate, he thought, the quicker he was warming to him.

 

Conveniently, the building the raiders and gunners had been fighting over had been the HQ of some prewar company, and as such was full of desks, clipboards, terminals and typewriters. Whilst Nate inspected his choices, wanting to pick out the best possible one for Piper, MacCready rifled through desk drawers and the like, looking for caps, ammo and other useful things.

"Okay, this one looks like it'll work." Nate spoke up, after tapping some keys. He packed it away with the rest of his loot, shouldering a bag that was now much bulkier and heavier.

"Careful with that. It's no use if it's broken by the time we get back."

"I know, I know. I've got it. Now come on, let's get out of here." MacCready nodded, and followed him back downstairs.

 

Fortunately, Nate didn't rush towards any other sounds of gunshots. He seemed eager to get back, and MacCready had no doubt that it was so he could baby him. Honestly, MacCready didn't think he'd ever met a person with more conflicting personality traits; on one hand, he was fearsome, toting deadly weapons with ease and not hesitating in dealing out pain and death to any who invoked his wrath. On the other, he seemed to have an innate need to be insufferably _nice_ to everyone else. He displayed generosity which was practically unheard of in the wasteland, and seemed to pick people in need of something and do his absolute best to provide it. Even people whose needs he perhaps didn't know about, MacCready was beginning to realise. He didn't know if Nate had figured it out or if he was just inherently good at what he was doing, but somehow he'd found MacCready at his worst, scraping for caps in the back of a bar because he'd lost everyone and everything he could be loyal to, and had given him everything he needed. Well, almost everything, but MacCready wasn't sure he was ready to tell Nate about Duncan. No matter how insane the man was, MacCready couldn't just ask him to barrel into a place as dangerous as the old Med-Tek building three days after they met. Besides, he was the one getting paid. He shouldn't be the one asking for favours. Speaking of which, he was beginning to feel bad for taking Nate's caps. Not that he needed them, but the older man had given him so much in the past few days that MacCready felt like he was taking advantage of the man. Maybe he should give him the money back. But then... Then he wouldn't be his boss anymore. Then what would they be? Friends? What if Nate didn't want to travel with him once their contract was up? Where would he go?

His thoughts swimming, he almost didn't realise when they arrived back at Covenant.

"Holy fuck, Nate. You do realise when people talk about bathing in the blood of their enemies they're joking, right?" Cait's voice broke him out of his reverie.

"I think it's this sword." Nate held up the weapon, frowning at it. "It seems to have a knack for hitting arteries."

"Gross. Where did you find it?"

"In the bottom of a haunted radioactive cave pond."

"...What?"

"Yeah, you heard me right. I'll tell the story later. For now I gotta get us cleaned up."

"Fair enough. Hi, Mac."

"Hey Cait." MacCready smiled at her.

Nate didn't bother sorting through his loot immediately, unlike last time. Instead, he went rummaging through his stuff, seeming to be looking for something. He returned with a relatively clean bucket, an only mildly stained rag, tweezers, med-X and a couple stimpaks.

"Jacket off." He ordered MacCready as he sat on one of the benches surrounding the campfire.

"What?"

"Your shoulder is gonna be full of buckshot right now. Left untreated, it could get infections or all kinds of nasty stuff, and I can't just stimpak it unless you want a few dozen tiny metal balls ripping your shoulder muscle apart from the inside."

MacCready winced, shrugging his jacket off. "Do you have to be so graphic?"

"Part of my charm, sweetheart. Shirt too." MacCready sighed, but took off his green scarf and pulled his shirt over his head. Behind him, Cait wolf whistled. MacCready glared at her.

"Hey Cait, since you're being so useful, be a doll and fill that up for me will you?" Nate asked, smiling politely. She rolled her eyes but obliged, coming over to take the bucket off of Nate. Meanwhile, Nate pulled a lighter from his pocket and ran the flame from one end of the tweezers to the other. MacCready watched a little apprehensively.

"That's... Really gonna hurt, isn't it?"

"That's what the med-X is for. I suggest you take it now. Give it time to properly kick in."

MacCready nodded, and injected the medicine into his arm, doing his best to ignore the shot of pain as he moved his shoulder. Cait returned with a bucket of clean water.

"There ya go." She caught sight of MacCready's shoulder, and grimaced at the bloody mess it made. "Shotgun?" He nodded. She made a sympathetic noise. "Hurts like a bitch. But trust me, you're better off for it."

"I'm sure."

Nate put aside the sterilised tweezers and picked up the cloth, dunking it in the water.

"I can probably do that part myself, you know?" MacCready complained.

"I know, but if I do it it'll get done quicker." Putting one hand on MacCready's uninjured shoulder, he wiped some of the blood off. MacCready jerked away from the touch as it burned on his open wound, but Nate was persistent. "See? If you did it you'd try to make it hurt less. Therefore it would take longer."

MacCready glared at him, gritting his teeth against the pain. "You're a real tender heart, you know that?"

"It's only gonna get worse, I'm afraid."

By the time he was satisfied with his work, the water in the bucket was red, and MacCready could see each little hole in his skin where the shot had gone in. It wasn't pleasant, but he'd seen a lot worse.

"Right." Nate had picked up the tweezers. "This is the fun part. Hold still."

Oh, how MacCready wanted to swear. He wanted to yell and scream and push Nate away because of how much it hurt, but he didn't. His knuckles were white as he gripped the bench and bit his lip so hard it bled. Each time Nate managed to retrieve one of the accursed metal things MacCready hoped he was done, but there always seemed to be another. Every now and then, Nate would stop to wipe fresh blood from his skin, giving him a brief reprise, but then he was at it again, digging through the muscle of his shoulder to retrieve the shot. He didn't say a word, concentrating on the task before him with laser focus. The little pile of bloody shot on the bench grew, until finally, Nate sat back, studying his work.

"Are... Are you done?" MacCready tried to keep his voice steady.

"I think so. Try moving your shoulder." The merc obeyed, rolling his shoulder in its socket. He breathed a sigh of relief when it didn't hurt anywhere near as much as it did before. "Better?"

"Yeah."

"Alright. Take a stimpak and it should heal up fine."

"Thanks, Nate."

"Any time." Nate smiled at him, resting a hand briefly on his uninjured shoulder before cleaning up his tools, rinsing off the tweezers, emptying the bucket and tossing the bloody rag on the fire. MacCready jabbed the stimpack into his arm and relaxed as the wound healed, leaving only lightly marked skin behind. He would have pulled his shirt and jacket back on immediately, but both were still bloody. He would have to rinse off the worst before wearing it again. In the meantime he was sure he could borrow some clothes from Nate's stock.

 

Later, freshly dressed in a checkered shirt, he found himself sat with Cait. Nate had given Piper her typewriter, and she was happily typing away at the desk in Nate's room. Nick was hard at work and Preston had apparently gone to visit the Castle. Apparently he would be back before dark. Nate himself had taken a fresh bucket of water and cloth to the pump and was rinsing all the blood from himself. He also offered to wash MacCready's things for him, since he was doing his own. MacCready watched him, wondering if he should have offered to help instead of letting Nate do all the hard work. At one point, Nate, shirtless and pushing back dripping wet hair from his eyes had caught MacCready looking and winked, an all too confident smirk on his face. MacCready had quickly looked away, his face on fire as he realised he had been staring. He wasn't staring like _that_ though. He had just been lost in thought. It wasn't like he _wanted_ to see Nate shirtless. He wasn't even gay.

Cait's laugh snapped him out of it. "Got a bit of a crush, have we?"

"What? No! I'm... I'm not..." MacCready spluttered.

"Not gay. Uh huh. Yup. I get it." She grinned. MacCready glared at her. "You wouldn't be the only one. _If_ you were interested, that is," she added at MacCready's attempted protest.

"Wait, do you-?"

"Me? Nah, I'm talking about Preston. He had a major hard on for Nate when I first met him. It was quite funny, actually."

"Preston? But I thought he was, you know, straight. I thought you two..."

Cait grinned. "He's very much bisexual, I'll have you know. Besides. We've only been together for a couple weeks now."

"I wouldn't have thought you two would get together. You're both so different. Then again I probably don't know you very well, do I?"

"No. You're right. He's way too good for someone like me. But he understands, y'know? He gets me in a way most people really don't, and besides, I need a soft touch in me life. He's the first genuinely kind person I've met in this blasted wasteland. 'Side from Nate, o' course." She smiled. "I've got no idea what he sees in me, but I like to think I'm there to support him the same way he is for me. He's had a real rough time recently. But he's on the mend, I'm sure of it."

"That's... That's really nice. I hope you two are happy."

"Yeah. Me too."

 

True to his word, Preston returned as the sky went from blue to orange, carrying good news. Nate had joined them later, his hair loose and his fringe wet and sticking to his forehead, but wearing cleaner clothes and smelling slightly less like a raider den. Preston had regaled him with stories of the Minutemen at the castle restocking their armouries and rebuilding their considerable defences, looking very pleased. Nate told him that he was considering going around to all of the major Minuteman settlements, making sure they had everything they needed soon. It had been a while.

"It's a big trip, now that there are so many of us," he'd said, "but if we want to rely on their support we need to make sure they're well fed and stocked, and besides, a visit from the General is always good for morale." Preston agreed with him. Of course, his other reason for wanting to do so was because, in his words, 'the uniform looks cool'.

"Oh, that reminds me. The scouts have located a new potential settlement. You know what to do, General."

"You bet."

 

Piper ended up not emerging from Nate's room until very late, holding a completed manuscript.

"Sorry guys. I finished my story. Reckon I'll get it to the press tomorrow. Oh, and Nate, I took some food from your stocks. In case you wonder where it went."

"No problem Piper. It's there for a reason."

"Thanks. Is Nick still working?"

"Yeah. You know what he's like. He probably won't emerge until he's run out of cigarettes if it's one of his bigger cases."

"Nick smokes?" MacCready asked. "But... He's a synth. Does he even have lungs?"

"Don't ask me." Nate shrugged. "Old habit, I'd guess." That didn't make any sense to MacCready, but he didn't press any further, assuming it might be rude.

 

They didn't stay up that late. MacCready and Nate in particular were eager to get a decent night's sleep after the very little rest they'd had the night previously. But despite how tired he was, MacCready did find himself laying awake for a while, staring at the ceiling and poking at the now healed wound in his shoulder. He thought about debts, favours and friendships, torn between the brevity of his relationship with Nate; keeping it professional- an option which seemed to be slipping through his fingers at an alarming rate- and giving in and asking Nate, as a friend, if he would help him save his son's life. He found himself wondering if Duncan would like Nate. He was sure Nate must be good with kids, being that he had a son himself. Even if he had lost his son to the Institute. MacCready couldn't lie; whilst he admired Nate's determination, he didn't truly believe he'd succeed. He just hoped he didn't get himself killed trying.

When he finally did fall asleep, for the first time his dreams were filled with straight white smiles and red hair, the smell of blood and green light protecting him from the dark.

 


	4. Getting Even

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally, it's time for loose ends to be tied and debts to be paid. The end of an era, one might say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a heads up: I am now back at college, so I will have less time to write, so expect slower updates. With that bad news out of the way, I'd just like to say how happy I am with the response this has been getting. Seriously, the kudos, the comments, they are the biggest possible motivators. So thank you all, and keep it up because the more you guys want this the more I will write. Good day to you all. 1thousandminus7 signing out.

This was getting ridiculous.

 After two straight days of travelling from settlement to settlement with Nate, watching him fixing broken water purifiers, set up defences and just generally care for the settlers, seeing him tip his stupid tricorn hat to the ladies and patch up the scraped knees of the very few kids, MacCready came to the conclusion that this man had to have an agenda. He had to. No one in the Commonwealth, hell the whole _wasteland_ was this nice. Well, Garvey was right about one thing. That long blue coat did suit him. The man had an uncanny knack for getting on people's good sides, and bringing them together. He'd solved disputes, welcomed new settlers and reassured the current inhabitants that any and all problems would be solved to the best of his ability. And all this with a gracious smile on his face and the patience of a saint.

"What gives?" MacCready had caught him sat beside a river in one settlement, fixing up a leaking purifier. He had a wrench in his hand and a screwdriver in his teeth, which he took out to look up at the merc.

"Sorry?"

"Why do you do all this? What did these people ever do for you?"

"Well, first things first, it's literally my job. What kind of a dick general would I be if I just sat at home and gave orders from afar?"

"Uh, that's what most people in your position would do."

"Exactly." MacCready frowned, confused. "Secondly, the more Minutemen we have, the more help we can get when we need it. I happen to own a flare gun which, if I play my cards right, could bring a whole army down on an enemy's head at a moment's notice."

MacCready pointed over his shoulder at the settlers; in dirty overalls, farming, haggling for caps and talking peacefully. "These guys? An army? Are you kidding?"

"I provide them with weapons and armour. They can fight. Just because they're not dressed to kill 24/7 doesn't mean they can't at all."

"Whatever. At least you've got one competent fighter on your side."

Nate grinned at him. "Indeed. And thirdly..." He beckoned MacCready close. The merc crouched beside him. He murmured in his ear, "You see all the stores and everything I've built? I get a cut of the profits. From every store I set up in every settlement. What I'm building here, every turret I make, every settler I recruit and every trade line I create, it's an investment."

MacCready blinked. "Every one of those stores gets you caps?"

Nate nodded, looking pleased with himself.

"Wow. That's... That's impressive."

"I know." He returned to fixing the purifier. MacCready sat beside him, thinking.

"Hey, I was thinking about the other day... With the Gunners."

"Oh yeah? Not missing your old friends are you?"

MacCready barked a laugh. "Oh, heck no. No, I was thinking more along the lines of maybe it's about time that I actually stand up to Winlock and Barnes."

Nate stopped what he was doing, putting his wrench next to the screwdriver on the bank. He then gave MacCready his undivided attention.

"What brought this on?"

"Well, I was thinking... Until I actually do something instead of just avoiding them, they're probably gonna keep chasing me around. Besides, it's baggage from my past that I could really deal with getting rid of." _Also if you're willing to help me with this you might be willing to help me with other things_ , he thought, but didn't say.

"And how do you plan on going about this?"

"The old fashioned way, I guess. With a full clip and a well-aimed scope."

Nate chuckled. MacCready liked his laugh. "That's one way of getting them off your back."

"And it sends a message to the others. That I'm not gonna take their shi- ah, put up with them any more."

Out of the corner of his eye, MacCready caught Nate giving him a sideways look and a smile.

"What?"

"You and your cussing thing."

"Shut up. I have my reasons."

"I don't doubt it. It's just funny because of all the things you could have reservations on, murder, extortion, theft... Yeah, don't think I haven't caught you pocketing the odd ammo box or whatever around these settlements." MacCready blushed, feeling slightly ashamed, despite himself. Nate smiled. "Ah, don't worry about it. I give them everything they need to defend themselves. Besides, I've been known to help myself from time to time. Especially from people I don't like."

"One day, I might tell you the story."

"I'll look forward to it." There was a brief silence, and it took MacCready a moment to remember what he'd originally been talking about.

"Aaanyway, so Winlock's outpost is up on Mass Pike Interchange. I know I'm not supposed to be the one asking favours, but if you haven't got anything to do after this... I, uh, wouldn't mind the company."

Nate's eyes lit up, and a now familiar look of dark excitement crossed his face. "When am I not up for bashing in some heads?"

"When that head's mine, I hope." MacCready's laugh turned into a protest as Nate put an arm around his shoulder and almost made him fall over into his lap. As it was he lost his hat trying to free himself from Nate's mock headlock. Nate laughed at him.

"You better watch yourself just in case, RJ. I am crazy, after all."

"Hey! Let me go!" Nate finally did as requested, after nicking his hat off the ground and fixing it on his own head. MacCready punched him in the arm and reached for it. Nate slapped his hand away.

"At least tell me what it looks like first."

MacCready gave him a deadpan look. "Stupid." In truth, it... didn't. The green went very nicely with Nate's red hair, and whilst it didn't exactly suit him, there was something about the image. It was... cute? Nah, that couldn't be right. Nothing about the man in front of him was cute. Not in the little kids and puppies way, anyway. Not that he would ever tell Nate that.

"I think you're very pretty without your hat on." Nate said earnestly.

"What? I... What?"

"Not that I don't think the hat looks good on you. I just like seeing your face. Also your hair is fluffy." He grinned, seeming to be enjoying MacCready's reactions. The younger man ran a hand through his hair, probably sticking up all over the place.

"You know, people generally use the word 'pretty' in relation to like, girls and flowers and stuff. I don't... I'm not..." MacCready heard and felt himself getting flustered as Nate watched him, an amused expression on his face. The look in his eyes was... soft? Fond? "Give my my freaking hat back you dick."

"What, you don't like being called pretty? What about... Handsome? Gorgeous?" Nate leaned back, as though contemplating. "Aesthetically pleasing?"

" _Aesthetically pleasing_?" MacCready, face now bright red, leaned over and snatched his hat back, making sure to jab Nate in as many places as possible as he did so. "There's something wrong with you. There has to be." He jammed his hat back on his head, pulling it low over his features. He swore he could feel Nate's eyes on his back.

"Mmm. Maybe." The older man stood up, picking up his tools. "Right. I'll tell them we're done here. I believe we have a job to do." He gave MacCready one last teasing grin over his shoulder and walked off. MacCready stared after him as he went. Was it just him, or was the man getting worse? He really was laying it on thick. And that was... MacCready didn't know whether to be embarrassed or flattered. Had Nate been telling the truth? Nah. MacCready wasn't any of those things, pretty or otherwise. He wasn't ugly, not really, but he was just, you know, normal. A little too short, a little too skinny and missing a few teeth. Not like Nate; tall, well built, hair that was just the right shade of red and a perfect smile. Nope, Nate definitely just loved making him blush. He sighed heavily and got to his feet. He'd have to find some way to get back at the man. Until then, though, he would just have to try to keep himself from giving Nate the satisfaction of seeing him squirm.

 

Nate met him at the gate, holding up his hand in greeting as MacCready approached, swigging a Nuka Cola, which he was proud of having actually bought from one of the settlers (albeit using stolen caps). His pockets were full of ammo and he was almost nervous. Not because he didn't think he could do this; he and Nate made a great team, and nothing and no one had gotten the better of them yet. They'd fought scarier things than a group of Gunners. No, he was nervous because, for a while, Winlock and Barnes had been a big part of his life. They'd recruited him, they'd been his commanders, they'd trained him and they'd been the ones who exiled him. By killing them, he was effectively closing the book on the Gunner chapter of his life. It was definitely what he wanted, but at the same time... It felt like a big deal.

"Ready? We've got quite the walk ahead of us."

"Yeah, I know. Best get on the road. I reckon we should get there by tomorrow morning if we find a place to rest on the way."

"Sleeping rough again?" Nate grimaced. "I hate doing that. I swear to god every inch of me feels stiff the next morning."

"It's that or keep moving the whole night. I don't like travelling at night. You don't know what could be creeping up on you."

"In my experience the really bad stuff is usually very loud. Deathclaws were not made for stealth."

"Yeah, well, some guy with a knife can be." Nate fell into step beside MacCready as he walked past. The merc caught him squeezing something small from a packet into his palm and tossing it into his mouth, pocketing the rest before MacCready could see what it was. "I thought you didn't take any of those chems. What was that? A mentat?"

"What? No!" Nate held out the packet for MacCready to see. Prewar sweets. "Gum drops. You want one?"

"Oh. Sure." MacCready was pleasantly surprised. He loved sweet things, and whilst he didn't trust a lot of the food Nate picked up around the Commonwealth, these seemed harmless enough. It was orange flavoured. He wondered if oranges actually tasted anything like that.

Their walk was fairly uneventful, talking about this and that, sharing sweets and cola and generally having a good time. They encountered a pack of wild dogs, a radstag and a few bloodbugs. MacCready loudly voiced how much the 'flying dirty needles' freaked him out as Nate shot them down. Afterwards, Nate accidentally stepped on one, crushing it and letting all the blood it had sucked from him run across the floor. MacCready nearly threw up his cola. For the rest of the day's walk, Nate was scratching at a welt on his arm where the bug bit him. He shared stories about how they used to have tiny versions of the things, before the rads got hold of them, and used to leave much smaller but just as criminally itchy bites behind. Whilst MacCready didn't originally see the issue with this, since smaller bugs must have been far less freaky and dangerous, after Nate described collecting a record 53 bites on a holiday abroad and living in a state of constant itch for a week afterwards he began to see the problem.

Mass Pike Interchange was very high up. It wasn't difficult to miss, but as Nate and MacCready stood beneath it, looking up at the massive bridge, it wasn't immediately obvious as to how to get up there.

"Do we go around? Follow the road until we see where it comes back down again?"

"It's broken off a little way to the east I'm pretty sure." MacCready gestured off to the left. "There's a place we can climb up. There's a couple elevators that'll take you up but it'll take us right into the middle. Probably not a good idea, because they've got firepower." Nate straightened his hat, which he had put back on after finishing his dirty work, and stared off down the road, squinting slightly against the sunlight.

"Yeah... I think I see a collapsed bit. Is that where you mean?"

"Probably. Guess we'll find out."

"Alright. Let's go then." Nate strode off, his blue coat tails trailing behind him. MacCready rolled his eyes. The man had insisted upon wearing the coat even after they'd left the settlements behind. The merc reckoned he just liked dressing up. At least it was armoured.

Sure enough, after about ten minutes' walk they encountered the collapsed section of the road. Nate appraised it, judging what the best route up it was. MacCready began to climb immediately, having done it before.

"Watch your step. There's a lot of places where it's really easy to lose your footing. I've seen people fall to their deaths from up here, or at least a broken leg."

"Got it." Nate seemed to be being very careful, in a way MacCready had never seen from the man before. He had to stop and wait for the redhead to catch up a few times, and when they reached the cracked bit of road that levelled off, indicating they'd reached the top, MacCready noticed that Nate was frowning slightly, looking paler than normal.

"Hey... You alright there?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine." He huffed a breath as he reached flat ground, looking relieved. "I don't really like high places, is all."

This surprised MacCready for some reason. He had it in his head that his companion was completely fearless. He'd seen him go toe to toe with a guy in full power armour without flinching, so he'd assumed heights wouldn't be an issue.

"Oh. Well, I should probably warn you there's, uh, a few holes here and there." Nate looked uneasy. MacCready remembered what it had felt like when he was in the cave at Dunwich. "You don't have to do this, you know. If it makes you uncomfortable you don't have to come with me."

Nate shook his head. "I've been in worse situations. I'll just watch my feet and I'll be fine."

"Okay. But just say the word and we'll go back, I promise."

"Thanks." Nate smiled, looking grateful.

Walking along the top of the pass didn't present much of a challenge. MacCready occasionally pointed out an unsafe place to stand, but Nate, true to his word, was keeping a close eye out and managing fine. Whilst he didn't look happy as such, he didn't look like he was about to pass out either. He did, however, perk up immediately once he heard voices. MacCready immediately recognised Barnes's obnoxious voice. He readied his rifle. Nate pulled him behind a beat up old trailer and muttered to him.

"How're we doing this? All guns blazing? Or do you want a more stealthy approach?"

"I want them to know I was the one who did this. So... You go in first, since you're better at that kind of thing. Just... Let me get in a few good shots before you wipe them all out, yeah?"

Nate grinned, pulling out his sword. "You got it, partner." With that he stood up straight, took a look past the trailer to where the Gunners had set up their outpost, and then looked back, inclining his hat to MacCready in a mock gentlemanly fashion. "See you on the other side." And with that, he charged the group. Less than three seconds passed before shouts broke out, and MacCready heard gunfire. Shortly after that, he followed, aiming and firing into the fray. He heard one of the Gunners yell his name, and knew they'd recognised him. He felt a grin splitting his lips as he let loose the resentment he'd been bottling up since shortly after he'd made the mistake of joining their stupid group.

Nate seemed to be having the time of his life, hacking and slashing at anyone who made the mistake of getting too close. At the sound of the ruckus, the rest of the team had shown up. MacCready saw Winlock join the fray.

"THAT ONE'S MINE!" He yelled at Nate. Nate spared him a nod before getting right back to fighting. A shock of panic went through him when he saw a Gunner approach a set of power armour, but he nailed the guy in the head before he could get the thing started.

Between them, the Gunners didn't stand a chance. MacCready wanted to save Winlock for last, but he was proving quite dangerous. He'd already fired a laser shot which had come close enough to MacCready to leave a line of painfully burned skin on the side of his neck. Nate hadn't taken kindly to this when he had heard MacCready's yell of pain. After finishing off two more of his opponents, he'd gone after the man. For a moment MacCready thought he was going to break the deal and murder Winlock in front of him, but he just knocked the laser gun out of the Gunner's hand and wrestled him into submission, holding his sword against his throat. Finishing off the others, MacCready lowered his gun as he walked towards where Nate was standing with Winlock trapped against his chest. He could see a thin line of blood on Winlock's neck. The merc felt a cold sort of satisfaction at the myriad of emotions on the man's face; anger and disbelief and fear.

"What? Couldn't face us yourself so got your crazy friend here to do it for you?" Despite the sword pressed to his throat, the Gunner seemed determined to come off as cruel and mocking. He sneered at MacCready, who gave him an unimpressed look.

"If Nate wants to tear some of you to pieces, I'm not gonna stop him. You deserve it."

"What does that make you then? Huh? Traitor."

MacCready snorted. "Don't act like that makes me worse than you. Leaving the Gunners was the best decision of my life."

"So what now? 'S your boyfriend here gonna kill me?"

"Nope. Nate, hold him still." Nate did as he was told, one arm around the Gunner's waist in a pose that might have seemed romantic if not for the blade. MacCready raised his rifle. As he aimed, a small voice in the back of his head told him he had one last chance to turn back. He ignored it.

Winlock's body twitched as MacCready fired two shots into his chest and one between his eyes for good measure. At this range, the bullets went straight through his armour. Blood dripped from the holes. As MacCready lowered the gun, he caught Nate staring at him in rapt attention. As the redhead dropped the Gunner's body carelessly to the floor, his face lit up.

"I think that might have been the hottest thing I've ever seen in my life." He said in a brutally honest tone. MacCready laughed.

"You're such a freaking sadist, you know that?"

"These fuckers deserved it."

"Yeah. They really did."

"I think we should leave a message for anyone else who comes to investigate." Nate stated, beginning to loot the bodies.

"Oh yeah? You don't think this is enough?"

"Nah. They won't know it was you if they just find a bunch of dead bodies." He held up what appeared to be a switchblade, looking happy with his find. "Hold up." He went to the nearest trailer and began scratching something into its surface with the knife. The noise was awful.

"Do you really have to do that?"

"Gimme a sec. Seriously." After about half a minute and a lot of wincing, Nate stepped back. Scratched into the trailer's paint job in big, angry letters were the words 'FUCK OFF', signed with the initials ND+RJM.

"Short and sweet. I like it." MacCready said in an approving tone.

"Not done yet." And Nate proceeded to drag Winlock's body over to the trailer and prop it up, before sticking the knife up to its hilt in Winlock's forehead, just above MacCready's bullet hole. He stood back, looking pleased with the effect.

"Sometimes I'm really glad you're on our side." MacCready commented. "You would make a terrifying raider."

"Don't worry. I have no intention of stooping that low."

"Good."

"So... This was your task. Are you happy with the result?"

MacCready paused for a moment, then nodded. "Yeah. It feels good." It really did. He was finally free from that chapter of his life. One less thing to worry about. Nate smiled, looking kind despite the spatter of blood across his face.

"Good. I'm glad I could help."

MacCready frowned, then made a decision. He stuck his hand in his pocket. "Hey, Nate."

"Yeah?"

MacCready pulled out a few neat bundles of caps, still tied together. He'd never actually been able to bring himself to spend them.

"I want to give you these back." He held them out. Nate approached him, frowning slightly at the contents of his hand. "Look, I... You paid me to help you. But I feel like you've done a lot more helping me than the other way around."

"RJ, you need them more than I do."

"I know that. But it's... Symbolic, I guess. By giving you these back it means that I'm not in your employ anymore. That..." He took a breath. This was harder than he expected. "That I'm travelling with you because I want to. See, I know I can come off as kind of an ass- that I can come off as arrogant, and that I want to be alone. That... Well it couldn't be further from the truth. Being alone scares the heck out of me. I guess what I'm trying to say is that I'm sorry I said I wasn't in the market for friendship, because now that I've been travelling with you and I know I've got someone to rely on, I don't think I could go back to the way things were before. And I don't want you to be travelling with me just because I took your caps. I want you to travel with me because you want to, too." Nate was watching him carefully throughout his little speech. He shifted a little uncomfortably under the other man's gaze, suddenly very aware that he had just revealed a lot of personal thoughts and feelings. He hoped he hadn't gone too far. After a moment or two of this, Nate reached out and took the little bags of caps, pocketing them. Then he spoke.

"Thank you, RJ." His tone was genuine. He wasn't smiling or grinning in his trademark way, but there was a sort of quiet satisfaction in his expression. "That means a lot." MacCready felt relief wash over him. He was alright. Nate wasn't just going to let him go. Then he smiled, though it was a soft smile. "Does this mean I can call you my friend?"

The merc returned his smile, feeling more than a little happy. "Yeah. I guess it does."

 


	5. Risks and Rewards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which MacCready learns that books lie, ghouls make a great light source and on top of everything else, Nate has a martyr complex.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is actually based on a true story. They were both savage, and I died many, many times.

They were both in a very good mood. MacCready felt a heck of a lot better after having gotten things off his chest, and he was able to relax around Nate in a way he hadn't been able to before. Nate seemed pleased with the development in their relationship, and this- coupled with the fact that he was walking around in yet another suit of power armour which he had taken from Mass Pike- had him smiling, laughing and just generally being a fun person to be around. In the armour he was even taller, and MacCready found travelling alongside one of the giant machines slightly weird, but Nate didn't put the helmet on which made it slightly more personable. A high point of the trip was when Nate decided to do a full rendition of Orange Coloured Sky. MacCready joined in at some points but was perfectly happy to watch and listen as Nate danced about, making huge clanking sounds as he did so. It turned out that he wasn't horrible to listen to, even if he did fall flat on some of the higher notes. The sight of a grown man in power armour prancing around like a teenager at a party was absurd, and MacCready found himself laughing in a way he hadn't since Lucy's death. Something about Nate's joy, his enthusiasm, just _him_ made the merc happy in much the same way she had. He supposed it was because Nate was the first person he could genuinely call a friend since then.

It took them a couple hours to walk back to Covenant. There, Nate took to the back of his house once more to mess with his new suit of armour. Preston pulled MacCready aside as he did so.

"Heya, Garvey."

"MacCready. How is everyone?"

"They seem to be doing alright. Nate looks after them well. They seem to love him."

The Minutemen lieutenant smiled softly, glancing over to where Nate was. "Yeah. He's a real treasure, that one." MacCready recalled what Cait had said, about how Preston had been romantically interested in Nate before he'd gotten with her. He found himself wondering if, had that not happened, Nate would have returned his affections. If he even swung that way.

"You know, I'm glad he found you." Preston turned his attentions back to the merc.

"What?"

"He seems better. Happier. I thought the only thing that would fix that was finding Shaun, but... Yeah. Trust me, as someone who had been through his fair share of desperation, I know a man about to give up when I see one."

"Really? I, uh... When I met him he seemed fine."

"That's the kicker, isn't it?" Preston looked sad. He put a hand to his wrist, hidden under his coat. "Half the time you can't even tell until it's too late. And no one, not me, not Cait, not Piper... None of us have been able to help. Not really. Nick's done the most. I'd say he's Nate's best friend. He helped him find the man who killed his wife, and gave him the leads on his son. But he doesn't need answers. He needs someone who'll do for him what Cait did for me." He inclined his head in MacCready's direction. "And I think you're the closest who's come to doing that. I'm just grateful, because he means a lot to me. To all of us."

MacCready wasn't sure what to say to that. His bewilderment must have shown on his face, because Preston chuckled, adjusting his hat slightly. "I see. You don't know him well enough yet. Well, with how close you two've gotten in the past week alone, I'd say you'll figure it out before too long. I just hope you stay good for him. You hurt him, you'll have us to answer to."

"Why would I hurt him?" MacCready's thoughts were spinning again. He wasn't sure what Preston was insinuating.

"You tell me. Just keep doin' what you're doin'." He clapped the merc on the shoulder, then turned back to his work. MacCready paused, then walked away, processing what Preston had said. He was good for Nate? He was helping in a way they couldn't? He thought back to his time with the Sole Survivor. He'd never seen anything which would have concerned him, except maybe the reckless behaviour. But that was just Nate's style. He wasn't any less like that now than when they first met. He remembered seeing Nate in the cave at Dunwich, the many, many scars that littered his body, illuminated by the green light. How long had Nate been in the Commonwealth? How long since he had escaped the Vault? He knew it had been less than a year. Had he gained all those scars since then? Or were some of them from before? The idea that Nate's behaviour might be due to something other than just his personality was concerning. And he helped? How?

For the rest of the evening, he found himself watching Nate. He tried not to make it obvious, but he caught Nate's eye more times than he would have liked. If he didn't know any better, he would have sworn Nate kept deliberately glancing over at him, too. But he watched the way Nate interacted with the others. And what he was like when he was left alone. And sure enough, he noticed that when talking to others, Nate was his usual self, bright and happy and laughing. When the attention turned away from him, however, the laughter fell from his face. He looked... Sombre. Unlike anything MacCready had seen from him before. Later in the evening, MacCready approached him, finding him alone in his room. He was sat at his desk with a file open, jotting down notes. MacCready almost wasn't sure if he should disturb him, but he was alerted by the sound of the door opening, and looked up. Seeing the merc, his face lit up, and he closed the file and tucked it away.

"RJ. To what do I owe this pleasure? I would've thought you'd be in bed by now."

"I... wanted to talk. About something Preston said earlier. It's been bothering me, and I just want to clear things up." Nate frowned, but stood up, inviting MacCready to come sit with him on the edge of his bed instead. The merc took his invitation. He felt Nate's eyes on him, his curiosity. He couldn't help but notice that his friend looked dishevelled; strands of his auburn hair had escaped and were curling messily about his forehead, and he looked tired. "Um... Are you doing okay?"

"Yeah. I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be?"

MacCready laughed a short, sharp laugh. "Don't get me started. Most of us have lived with this messed up version of the world for our whole lives. You... You're used to a prewar world. A world where not everything in life was a raging disaster. Now not only are you wandering this place seeing the country you saw thriving dead in the dust, but you've also got problems most Commonwealth citizens have nightmares about."

Nate's expression twisted.

"Yeah. It's not nice, is it? And I see you, prancing about like you're completely fine. Like this is not like having a serrated knife stuck through your heart and twisting every time you think about them. The ones you love. If you were fine, I'd say there was something wrong with you. That you were a psycho or something. Because any sane person would be really, really torn up over it."

For the first time since MacCready had met him, Nate seemed at a loss for words. He was staring at his own hands, white-knuckled from how tightly they were clenched. MacCready paused, for a moment unsure of whether or not to act, then laid a hand atop Nate's. Nate looked up at him, his expression unreadable.

"I don't expect you to be okay. I know what it feels like. It was bad enough that I joined what was basically a suicide squad just to give myself a purpose. Not that it worked. But you... People rely on you, you know that, right? And whilst I don't necessarily understand why, I get that you care about helping them. So if you're not okay, if you feel like it's gonna get the better of you, don't just throw yourself headfirst into danger. You come to me, or anyone here first. Preston said that for whatever reason I can help. So I want to."

Nate's hand twitched beneath his. Then he threw himself into a hug, his arms around MacCready's shoulders, and his face pressed into the side of his neck. The merc was stunned for a moment, taken aback. Then he returned the hug, clutching tightly to his friend.

"Thank you." Nate's voice was rough, quiet but close enough to his ear to be clearly heard. MacCready didn't respond, but stayed like that until Nate let go, sensing that he needed this. When the redhead did pull back, he immediately switched straight back into his easy smile. It was strange, MacCready thought, how he could do that. But admirable, he supposed. "I'm really glad I ran into you. Who would have thought someone so great could come from the back room of a smoky old pub in a town like Goodneighbour?"

And just like that, they were back to their usual dynamic. Once more, Nate was managing to pull that slightly flattered embarrassment from MacCready, and laughing as his cheeks coloured once again.

"I'm not that great and you know it."

"Shut up and let me compliment you."

"Uh huh. Go to bed. It's late, and you'll probably be dragging me off into some fresh hell tomorrow, so let me sleep off my trauma."

"Alright, fine." Nate pushed his shoulder lightly, and MacCready stood, going to leave. "And RJ?"

"Yeah?"

The lines by Nate's eyes crinkled again, the fondness in them returning. "Tell Preston he's smarter than he looks."

MacCready frowned at him, but Nate didn't elaborate, choosing instead to lie back on his bed with a self-satisfied smirk on his face. MacCready just shook his head a little and left, going back to his bed.

 

The next day was another casual recon mission. Apparently there was a lighthouse a little way to the east which would make for a great new settlement, but first they had to clear out any unwanted company. By now, their mornings had become routine. Nate had changed back into his armour and road leathers, reluctantly leaving his precious General's uniform folded neatly in his bureau. He had to acknowledge that as cool as the outfit may look, it didn't offer nearly as much protection as his armour did, and since they didn't know what they would be facing it was safer to dress for protection more than style.

The lighthouse was, naturally, beside the coast. As they approached it, the air got colder, and MacCready had to hold his hat on his head in order to stop the wind from snatching it off him. Eventually he gave in and took it off, storing it inside his coat. The smell of sand and sea was unmistakable, but far from unpleasant. MacCready thought back to all the drawings in books, and the descriptions he'd read of the mirror-like surface of the sea, as blue as the sky, and the soft, rhythmic sounds of the waves against the sand. He came to the conclusion that the writers of such passages were liars. The sky was a grey blanket of clouds, and the sea was rough and choppy. Between the whistling of the wind and the crashing of waves against the rocks, he almost had to shout to be heard.

It turned out that the 'unwanted company' was a group of Children of Atom. They were armed with those godawful gamma guns that messed you up on the inside instead of the outside. Nate agreed that it would be better to take them out from a distance, to avoid soaking up the massive amounts of radiation they could dole out. Unfortunately, they could only take out so many of them in this way. After having cleared out the yard and the docks, they had to clear the house and the lighthouse itself. Naturally, Nate insisted he go first as they ascended the spiral stairs winding their way up the interior of the structure. And naturally as a result, he took a fair few hits. He seemed fine enough, but MacCready could tell that if he didn't take some radaway pretty damn soon he'd be throwing up everything he'd eaten in the past three days.

At the top of the lighthouse was a little chamber which led to the beacon itself. The beacon... was not working. Instead, the Children of Atom appeared to have used some poor settler as bait to trap a Glowing One in the chamber, barring the door shut behind it. MacCready winced slightly at the sight of the half-eaten corpse of the settler being presided over by the grotesquely mutated ghoul.

"Well... You gotta give them props for originality." Nate commented. "D'you think I should kill it? I mean, the likelihood of getting the thing working again is probably pretty slim."

MacCready gave him a look. "It's not like there are any ships out there. I doubt anyone will care. Besides, having one of those in a settlement is a risk. Who knows, someone might be dumb enough to let it out."

Nate nodded. "Fair point. Alright then." He drew his sword, then unlatched the door. It wasn't a long fight. The redhead grimaced as he wiped glowing green goo off his sword onto the dead settler's clothes, then went straight to the trunk that was sat to one side of the little room. He pulled out various bits of armour, looking pleased with his find.

"Right." He'd said after they'd done a full sweep of the area, and MacCready had made him choke down a couple radaways. "Preston wants me to set up a radio beacon. Building that's gonna take some time, so feel free to do what you like for a bit."

MacCready nodded, and left him to do his thing. The first thing he went to look at was the boat moored at the dock. It wasn't huge, just a little sailing boat designed for cruising along the coast. MacCready wondered if they could get it working again; some of the instruments looked a little cracked, but nothing looked beyond repair. Especially not with Nate's expertise. The house was pretty much the same as the majority of the houses found scattered about the Commonwealth; dirty, with broken windows and doors and a large part of the roof missing. Any settlers coming to live here would probably want better shelter than what this building could offer them. After a little bit of exploring, MacCready decided to climb the lighthouse once more. Unlike Nate, he really quite liked high places. There were a lot of stairs, and MacCready was slightly out of breath by the time he reached the top, but as he leaned against the railing and caught his breath, he was glad he came up. He could see for _miles_. The sight was beyond impressive. Off to one side was just an endless expanse of water. If he looked almost straight down he could see Nate sat in the middle of a pile of parts and tools, a barely recognisable dark shape against the sand. He could see the dull brown of the wasteland stretch out to either side, here and there broken by a blackened tree, clump of bushes or wrecked building.

He was stood there, just admiring the landscape, when he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. It was close to the lighthouse, moving towards the coastline, and the little boathouse there. There were two of them. MacCready watched the hulking great shapes with vague interest for a few seconds, unafraid because of how high up he was. _Deathclaws_ _don't_ _climb_. But then his eye fell upon Nate, and his blood ran cold. If the pair of deathclaws kept going in the direction they were headed, it was almost certain that they'd notice him. And then he would be in trouble. He considered yelling down to Nate, but he knew that there was no way the man would hear him over the wind, so instead he bolted, taking the stairs two at a time, trying to swallow his panic. Nate looked up as MacCready sprinted towards him, frowning.

"What's up? Something happen?"

"Deathclaws. Two of them. Just around the lighthouse. Heading this way." He made to pull Nate to his feet. "We need to go."

" _Shit_." Nate swore under his breath, dropping what he was doing and pulling his sword from the sand. They had just begun to move, when they heard a massive, earth-shaking roar behind them. MacCready chanced a glance over his shoulder to see one of the beasts lumbering towards them, the other close on its tail.

"Run. Run. _Run_." They ran. MacCready's lungs burned already from his sprint from the top of the lighthouse, but he pushed on, fuelled by adrenaline. Nate was slightly ahead of him, and as he glanced over his shoulder, his eyes widened in fear. MacCready didn't need him to say it to understand. _They're_ _gaining_ _on_ _us_. He could hear the creatures' heavy footsteps getting closer.

Nate glanced around wildly, then, spotting a large rocky outcropping, he grabbed MacCready's wrist and pulled him towards it. MacCready didn't know what he planned on doing. Hiding was not going to work at this stage. When they reached it, Nate shoved him bodily behind it, causing him to fall to the floor. MacCready's heart stopped as the man gave him a look that clearly said _I'm_ _so_ , _so sorry_ , then held up his sword and ran directly at their pursuers. _No. No. No_. MacCready was gasping for breath, his sides hurting badly and his legs feeling like jelly. Now that he was on the ground his body didn't want him to leave it. He felt like he was on the edge of blacking out from exertion. But he pulled himself up, chancing a glance out from behind his hiding place. Nate was clearly struggling. The beasts were practically on top of him, and it was all he could do to keep their deadly claws from landing a blow. _Stupid, self sacrificing-_ MacCready pulled out his gun. If Nate thought he was just going to stand by and watch him get torn to pieces...

MacCready shot at one of the deathclaws. It roared, but didn't tear its attention away from its prey. He fired again, and again, and again. And watched in horror as the other lashed out, catching Nate in the shoulder. The man cried out in pain, his left arm dangling uselessly by his side. By some small mercy, his sword arm was still intact, and as the beast advanced on him, he readied it. The deathclaw knocked him flat on his back. For one heart-stopping moment, MacCready thought he was done for. Then, as it leaned over him and roared, he shoved his sword up through the roof of its mouth, and it collapsed. He barely had time to push it off himself and get halfway to his feet before the other was on him. It swung at him, and MacCready saw his head jerk to one side as though he'd been slapped. He fell back down, but scrambled back up as quickly as he could with one arm. MacCready, still firing as many shots as he could into the beast, felt a small part of him fill with admiration. Nate just wouldn't stay down, would he?

He spoke too soon. The deathclaw, bleeding from multiple holes in its pelt and angered beyond belief, picked Nate up, roaring in his face. MacCready watched in horror as he scrabbled against the thing's claws, and almost screamed his name when the beast threw him bodily to the ground. He waited, mouth dry, for the man to push himself up again. For him to do anything. He didn't. The only indication that he was still alive came when the deathclaw leaned over him, in the process stepping on and putting its full, massive weight on his leg.

He screamed.

Pinned down, the deathclaw's paw pressing down on his chest, its teeth inches from his face and with no chance now of being able to get up even if he was free to, it looked like there was no way Nate would be getting out of this one. So MacCready did the only thing he could think of. He jumped out from behind the rocks and yelled at the beast, shooting it again. It looked up, seeming only now to register its other attacker. Another bullet, and it roared. And then MacCready had a wounded deathclaw charging at him full pelt. In a blind panic, he emptied the clip into the thing, barely bothering to aim at all. Fingers shaking, he attempted to reload, found he couldn't, and dropped his rifle, switching to the pistol. As it bore down on him, he closed his eyes, firing blindly. _So this is how it ends._ He thought to himself. _I'm sorry Duncan._ And then he felt a huge, hot weight on top of him, and he fell to the ground, crushed. He waited, winded, expecting claws, or teeth, or something to snuff out his life. It didn't come. After a few seconds of silence, he opened one eye. The deathclaw wasn't moving. He shifted gingerly, pushing it off him. And whooped with joy. It was dead! He'd killed it! He'd killed his first deathclaw! Then his eyes fell on Nate, and his joy turned to ice in his chest.

As he approached, his fears only got worse. Nate was covered in blood, the armour over his left shoulder in ribbons. But even worse was his face. MacCready could barely see his features under the thick coating of red, but he could see the damage was bad. And his leg... His leg was crushed.

"Nate... Oh, oh god, Nate..." MacCready dropped to his knees beside him, and pressed two fingers to his throat. It took a few tries, each sapping a little more of MacCready's hope, but eventually he found a pulse. Nate was alive. Immediately, hope flaring in his gut, MacCready dug through his supplies. He found five stimpaks, some med-X and two sachets of radaway. Ignoring the radaway, he jammed one of the stimpaks into the side of Nate's neck. Then another into his shoulder. And finally, after setting the bone as best as he could, a third into Nate's leg. And then he waited.

Nate's breathing was shallow, but eventually the rhythm changed into something more even. His cuts looked less angry, and MacCready could no longer see the raw flesh and bone of his leg. MacCready felt some of his panic ebbing away. Nate was getting better. Nate would survive.

Sure enough, after what MacCready considered far too long, though it was probably only about ten minutes, Nate's eyes opened. He inhaled deeply, then winced, his hands clenching in pain.

"H... Hey... RJ..." MacCready was on him in an instant, his hand on the other man's cheek, looking him up and down.

"Nate... Holy fu- Christ, Nate, you're alive!"

Nate's laugh turned into a pained cough. "Got your hopes up, did you?" His voice was rough. MacCready didn't deign to dignify that with a response, instead scooping the man up into a hug.

"Ah... Ah, RJ... As much as I appreciate the love... Hurts..." MacCready half-laughed, half-sobbed.

"You... You are _so stupid_." He berated him.

"I saved your life, didn't I?"

"If you had died, I would have _hated_ you for it."

Nate sighed, laying his head back on the dirt. "...Worth it."

"No. Not worth it." MacCready glanced up and down the man's body. Though he was far from healed, he was looking a hell of a lot better. "Come on. We need to get you back to Kingsport. Can you walk?"

"Guess we'll find out." He pushed himself up. There was a lot of wincing, and a lot of gasps and whimpers of pain, but eventually Nate was on his feet, albeit leaning heavily against MacCready for support. MacCready sent a thousand thanks to whoever invented stimpaks. They picked up their weapons, and then made to leave.

"Wait." MacCready stopped, and Nate limped over to one of the deathclaw corpses. The one that had torn his face up and crushed his leg. Then, he took his sword, and cut off one of its claws. Pocketing it, he limped back over to MacCready.

"What was that for?"

"Battle trophy." He grinned. "It's not often that something comes that close to killing me. I feel like I should honour it."

"By cutting off its claw?"

"You'll see."

MacCready spent most of the walk back to Kingsport chewing Nate out for putting himself in such danger. The redhead was astoundingly lighthearted about the whole thing, brushing it off like it was nothing, but MacCready wouldn't have it. He wasn't about to lose another person he cared about, and he made sure Nate understood that. He also made Nate promise to never attempt to sacrifice his own life for MacCready's ever again, though he wasn't sure just how good Nate would be at keeping that promise.

Back at Kingsport, MacCready led him to one of the old beds in the house and made him lie down. The bed wasn't particularly pleasant, but it was better than lying on the floor. From there, he brought Nate everything he could need. Fortunately, they had brought plenty of supplies, so neither food nor water was a problem. MacCready also brought him a bucket of water to wash off the blood. It was seawater, so it wasn't the best thing for the job, but that salt would help disinfect the wounds and their purified water was too precious to waste on washing. With the worst of the blood rinsed off, MacCready could see just how bad the damage was. The worst was a deep, ugly gouge which ran from the corner of Nate's right eye across the bridge of his nose and down his left cheek. Below it, a second, parallel scratch bisected his upper lip and a third, lighter one decorated his chin. Barely noticeable against the first three was a fourth, barely a nick, which sat at the top of his left cheekbone. When MacCready had first caught sight of this, he had gasped before he could stop himself. Nate grimaced.

"That bad, huh?"

"Put it this way." MacCready tried to be lighthearted. "No one's ever gonna challenge you again. They make you look pretty damn dangerous."

"I guess." Nate had seemed disheartened.

"Could've been worse. Just an inch higher and you'd be down an eye."

"Now that _would_ suck." Nate conceded.

Once they had managed to get the twisted, torn armour off ("Never gonna wear that again, am I?"), MacCready had been able to take a look at his shoulder. Parallel scars much the same as the ones across his face ran from his shoulder down to the centre of his chest. Over the next few days spent recovering, Nate developed a habit of running his fingers up and down the marks, tracing their raised edges. He'd gotten bored quickly, and had asked MacCready to bring him some things; a knife, a drill, some sandpaper and one of the pocket watches he'd taken from a safe in the house. They seemed strange requests to MacCready, but he did as he was asked. The tools could be found on the workstation they'd found here, and knives were easy enough to come by. And as he'd sat in bed, Nate had taken to working away at his deathclaw claw, scraping away scales and flesh to leave just the bone behind, and then laying into it carefully with the drill. MacCready returned to his side one day to find that he was done with his project; the claw, clean, polished and shining slightly in the low light rested between Nate's collarbones, hanging from the silver chain the pocket watch used to be attached to. Nate ran his thumb along it.

"You like it?"

"It certainly makes a statement." MacCready stated. Nate laughed.

 

MacCready made him stay put for a whole week, regularly checking up on him, especially his leg, before finally deeming him properly healed. When Nate could stand up and walk around without limping, MacCready decided it was about time they returned to Covenant. Nate insisted upon finishing the job which he'd come here to start, and MacCready stood a very careful watch whilst he did so. But Nate was done within a couple of hours, so they resolved to return home that day.

"This'll be fun to explain to the others." Nate said as they set off, running a fingertip over the scar on the bridge of his nose.

"I bet they'll be impressed. Taking on two deathclaws with nothing but a sword is not something you hear a lot of people doing. Or walking away from, for that matter."

"I wouldn't have if you hadn't been there."

"Yeah, but you did most of the work. Make the most of it."

"Don't worry. I will."

As they walked, MacCready couldn't help but wonder what he would have done if Nate had died. Would he have gone back to Covenant? Would he have been able to face the others if he had? No, he would have run. He would have run away again, like he'd run from so many things in his life before. He contemplated just how reliant he was on this man, how heavily his life had become intertwined with Nate's. It was scary, yeah. There was always a small part of him that resented relying on others, and as proven by this incident, it meant his metaphorical crutch could be ripped out from under him at any moment. But at the same time it felt nice to have someone again. To have a person he could be open with and close to without fear. And as he watched Nate, his new scars failing to dim his smile and the way his eyes crinkled whenever they met MacCready's he thought to himself yeah, I'm in really, really deep with this guy. But he found that, at the end of the day, he really didn't mind.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I drew Nate! If you're curious as to what he looks like, go here: http://1thousandminus7.tumblr.com/post/150309465282/after-chapter-5-of-my-story-went-up-i-decided-to


	6. Regained Hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He should have told Nate sooner, he really should have. But whatever it was that was holding him back before, it sure as hell wasn't anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not entirely sure how to feel about this chapter. I might go back and change it at a future date, but for now I'm happy to let it be so I can get to the gayness already. Jeez, even I'm impatient for it and I'm the goddamn author :P

" _Damn_."

"Holy fuck, Nate!"

"Shit, General!"

"Oh, _sir_!"

"Blue? What happened?"

Nate was practically mobbed as soon as they entered Covenant, the first shout drawing attention and pulling everyone from what they were doing. It quickly built into a clamour as discussions immediately broke out regarding Nate's new look.

"Calm down, calm down. I'm alive, aren't I?"

"It hasn't escaped your notice that half your face has come off, has it?" Nick chuckled to himself. "If you really model yourself after me so much, there are better ways of doing it."

"Oh, come on. It's not that bad." Nate put a hand to his nose, fingering the mark. "Is it?"

"I admit, when you were gone for a solid week straight we had our concerns. It's never taken you that long to set up a settlement before." Preston sounded relieved more than concerned. MacCready couldn't blame him.

"Blame RJ. He wouldn't let me move for six days straight."

All eyes turned to MacCready, who glared at Nate. "Excuse me for looking out for you." He turned to the others. "You didn't see the state he was in."

"But what _happened_?" Piper asked.

"Alright, settle down. Boy do we have a story for you." Nate gave his trademark grin and strode past them. "I think this one calls for a drink." There seemed to be a collective sigh, but they let him go. Nate returned relatively quickly, hands full of bottles, and began passing them out, taking a seat. He insisted MacCready sit next to him on his bench, and set about fumbling for something he could use to open his beer as the younger man sat beside him.

"Oh give it here." MacCready took it off him and cracked it open with his teeth, pocketing the cap. Nate gave him the side eye.

"No wonder your teeth are all over the place, if that's what you use them for."

"Hey, I may have chipped one or two and lost a couple more but none of those were because of bottle caps. ...Except maybe the one I lost in a fight over a bet."

"Wow. You'll have to tell me that story."

"Not much to tell. Idiot tried to cheat me out of a night's winnings. I taught him why that was a bad idea. 'Course he did get a few good hits in first."

"I'm sure. Tell me he came off worse though."

"You're damn right he did."

Nate held up his beer. "To winning fights."

MacCready tapped his bottle to Nate's and took a swig.

"Alright, alright, you've got your alcohol. Now spill." Nick interrupted them. The others had once more gathered, and it seemed they weren't going to let him get out of it again.

"Okay, so we show up to this lighthouse and it's pretty much what you expect..." And he went on to regail them with a very enthusiastic retelling of the events of the past week. Every now and then MacCready would chip in with a detail that Nate missed, or correct him when he blew something overly out of proportion.

"And so it was standing over me and drooling all over my face, let me tell you getting deathclaw spit in an open wound hurts like a fucking bitch, and you know how you can tell when you're about to black out? The world goes all fuzzy around the edges? Yeah, that's how things looked from down there, and then RJ here does probably the bravest thing I've ever seen."

MacCready flushed. "It wasn't that brave. It was more adrenaline than anything else."

"You yelled at it. You literally watched that thing practically tear me to pieces and then _yelled_ at it. You got its attention, and last thing I know I'm watching it run straight at you. And you didn't flinch. RJ, you saved my life..." His voice trailed off, and it seemed like for the first time since the incident, he was actually realising just how close to death he'd actually come. His expression changed from wild excitement to something close to fear. MacCready thought back to the conversation he'd had with him the night before they left. Some small part of him hoped this was the wake up call Nate needed. A reminder to tell him to actually look after himself.

"What did you _do_? Piper breathed, thoroughly engrossed.

"Shot it." MacCready said, like it was that easy.

"You shot a deathclaw as it was charging at you, and walked away alive?" Okay, this was getting ridiculous. It wasn't anything like they made it sound.

"There wasn't much else I could do, was there? And it was more by luck than judgement, it was already wounded."

"And... You killed it?"

"Well, yeah. Even deathclaws can't survive that many bullets."

"Woah..." MacCready wasn't sure whether to be proud or exasperated. Part of him wanted to milk the praise for everything it was worth. But another part of him, small but insistent, told him he couldn't take credit when he'd almost let Nate die. He should've done something sooner, instead of hiding behind that damn rock. Maybe then Nate's face wouldn't be so messed up. And if Nate had died, then it would have been Lucy all over again. No, it wasn't his fault they got attacked, but at the end of the day all he did was stand by and watch as they got torn apart.

"And then he took care of me." Nate's voice was soft. "He's right. I was a mess. I could barely walk." There was a sombre silence. Then Nate perked up again. "But hey. We lived, and here we are, even if I'm not as pretty as I used to be."

"I suppose we owe you our thanks for bringing him back alive." Nick addressed MacCready, his voice low. MacCready's eyes flicked from Nick to Nate, and the scars that would be with him for the rest of his life.

"Nah. Don't thank me." Nate looked up, his eyes meeting MacCready's, and he must have read something in them, because he turned his attention to the rest of the group.

"Alright. Story time's over. We got some stuff to do." He stood, and laid his hand on MacCready's shoulder as he did so, indicating he should follow. He led him to his house, and shut the door behind them. Immediately and inexplicably, MacCready felt his chest tighten slightly.

"Okay. Something's bothering you."

"No sh- I mean, no kidding."

"I don't mean the obvious. Yes, it was a distressing experience for both of us, but it's more than that, isn't it?" He turned to face the merc, and with the few inches of height he had on him, ended up looking down at him slightly. He saw concern on his friend's face, and it wasn't an emotion that seemed to fit with the carefree man.

"I dunno, I guess I feel like I should have done more. Maybe this," he gestured wildly in the vague direction of Nate's face, "could have been avoided."

"Hey." Nate's hand clasped his wrist. MacCready's eyes flicked to the contact, then back up to meet the taller man's gaze. "Don't. You did exactly what I wanted you to. And before we get into some argument over whose life is worth more, because I know that's exactly where this is going, I want to say thank you for that. Honestly, I'd take a few scars over losing you any day."

"I'm just a merc. Some guy you picked up in the back of a bar."

"You're my friend." Nate insisted. "And I care about you." He let go of MacCready's wrist. His skin felt briefly cold in the absence of his touch.

"I... Can I tell you something?" His insides twisted slightly. Nerves?

"Of course."

"Back when I was a kid, I lived in a place called Little Lamplight. It was a little town hidden in a cave, and it was run by kids. No mungos- uh, adults- allowed. When you were sixteen you packed up and left. It was the rules."

"You lived in a town with no adults?" Nate looked incredulous. "How did that work?"

"It just did. Kids aren't slavers, or raiders, or any of that type. We were safe. Anyway, I was appointed mayor, and I was in charge for three years. Which meant I was responsible for them. For all of them. If any of them got hurt, or kidnapped, or killed, it was on me."

"That's a hell of a lot of responsibility for one kid."

"You're telling me. I guess what I'm trying to say is I learned to do what I had to to protect the people in my charge. And on the day you got those, I failed to do that." Nate opened his mouth to speak, but MacCready interrupted him. "I'm not done yet. You remember the first night I spent here? The day I met you? I... I told you about my wife?" Nate nodded. "I told you she got killed by ferals. What I didn't tell you is that it wasn't just the two of us." He paused, taking a breath. "I have a son." Nate's eyes widened. "She wanted me... She wanted me to take him and run. To save ourselves. I did what she wanted me to do, and put my life before hers. And she was killed. To this day I regret it. I regret putting her wishes before her safety. And I nearly did it again. What kind of person does that make me?" His voice was low now, and he found himself staring at the claw resting on Nate's chest rather than look him in the eye.

"But... You saved your son. Didn't you?"

"It could have just have easily been the other way around. I could have fought them off, or let her escape with him, or _something_. But I didn't. I keep telling myself there was nothing I could do, that it was better that I did what I did, but I can't help but wonder..." He heard his words coming out rougher, maybe even a little angry. He didn't mean them to be. "I'm sorry, okay? And don't tell me not to be because I know I could've done better. I'm just so grateful it didn't come to that, because I'm not sure I could've handled it happening again. So just let me be sorry."

There was a pause. Nate didn't say anything. Slowly, he raised a hand. He hesitated a moment, as if unsure of what to do next, then rested it on MacCready's shoulder. For a brief, split second, MacCready thought he saw Nate lean in ever so slightly. His breath hitched. Then something flickered in Nate's eyes, and he sighed.

"I forgive you. If it's any consolation, you did enough to save my life. And that's enough for me." He frowned slightly. "If... If it's not too much to ask, you said you _have_ a son. Not had. Does that mean he's still alive?" His hand dropped to his side. MacCready felt his stomach twist. Well, he'd come this far. Might as well go the whole way.

"For now." Confusion and concern twisted Nate's expression. "He's sick. Very sick. I came here looking for a cure. But I... It's not something I would be able to do alone."

"But, RJ, you have me. Why didn't you tell me sooner?" He sounded... angry?

"It's not something I can ask just anyone."

"And I'm just anyone now am I?" Nate's voice was raised. MacCready's eyes widened. He almost took a step back.

"No! But you were. When I first met you. And since then we've kind of had a lot going on, I don't know if you've noticed."

"With petty little quests! Stuff I do to pass the time! And what about the last week? You had me doing fuck all the whole time!"

"Nate, _you nearly died_."

"Yeah, but you cured me!" He shook his head. "Never mind. This isn't important. Do you know where the cure is?"

"I don't know for sure, but I overheard some people talking about someone who had an illness that sounded a lot like Duncan's getting a cure from the old Med-Tek building. I tried to go in, but the place is overrun with ferals. I couldn't get further than the first floor."

"Right." Nate held up his wrist and began tapping away at the device he had there. "It's not too far. I reckon we could be there in less than an hour."

"We only just got here. We should rest before we head out again."

" _No_." The shortness of Nate's answer took him aback. "You've already waited way too long to tell me this. I know what it's like to lose a son and trust me, if I was ready to continue going after him I'd be out of here as soon as possible." He turned and strode to his armour stash, rummaging through it to find something to replace the chestplate that was ruined in the fight with the deathclaw.

"My feet hurt from walking. I haven't eaten since we woke up and neither of us got much sleep last night."

"I'll go alone then." He found a suitable one and began buckling it around himself. "Just a few ferals, I can handle it. It's worth it."

Something in MacCready's chest fluttered. He'd do that for him? No, it was probably just his hero complex kicking in.

"That's dumb and you know it. I'm not letting you go by yourself." MacCready sighed. Even though all the things he'd said were true, he couldn't help but feel a mounting sense of hope and excitement. Nate would help him. With Nate by his side he stood a chance of getting it. Of saving Duncan's life.

"Just... Let me eat something first."

 

Ten minutes later, they were ready to set out again. Cait caught them, and asked where they were going so soon after they'd gotten back.

"Urgent mission. Will explain when we get back."

"Alright, fine. But take care of yerselves, won't ya?" She gave Nate a look. "Especially you, big guy. No gettin' yerself all torn up again, you hear?"

"Can't make any promises." Nate flashed a grin at her before returning to the determined expression he'd worn since MacCready had brought up the subject.

"I'm trustin' you to look after him, then." She told the merc. "You did a good job last time. Keep up the good work."

MacCready nodded. "Wouldn't have it any other way."

"I don't know how long we'll be gone. Don't wait up."

"Don't worry. We won't." Cait grinned at him.

With that, they headed off. Nate set a brisk pace, so that MacCready nearly had to jog to keep up. He couldn't lie, he was vaguely overwhelmed by everything that had just happened. He'd never seen Nate like that before. So worked up. Was it out of empathy? Because he knew what it was like to not know if you were ever going to see your child alive again? Little phrases from their conversation flitted through his mind. Offhand comments of Nate's, but words that MacCready had picked up on and was now wondering just what he had meant by them.

_I'd take a few scars over losing you any day._

_I care about you._

_I'm just anyone to you then?_

_I'll go alone._

_It's worth it._

Did he really mean that much to Nate? Was this more than just heroics? He was finding it difficult to wrap his thoughts around the idea that Nate might care for him beyond casual friendship. It was true that in the wasteland people tended to throw their whole beings at any semblance of a relationship, be it romantic or platonic, because of how short your life could be out here, but Nate wasn't from this time. He came from an era where it took time to build that kind of thing. And MacCready didn't know exactly how long it had been, but he knew that Nate had recently lost his wife. And he knew how much that hurt. No, he was definitely overthinking. Nate was just the kind of person who stuck his neck out for those in need. The sort of person who was easy to make friends with and who easily won you over to his cause.

_But then..._ His traitorous mind whispered, _what about that moment...?_ That moment. The one he'd barely registered. The one that part of him believed he'd imagined. _Was he going to kiss me?_ No, no that wasn't right. He'd barely moved. Why was he even thinking about this?

Before he could stop himself, MacCready found his thoughts drifting, wondering what it would be like to kiss Nate. If the other man's stubble would scratch him, if the scar on his lip would change how it would feel. He imagined his arms around his waist, his fingertips tracing his hips with the same delicate tenderness he used when handling his favourite weapons. Then his mind migrated down other paths, his back pressed against the cold wall, perfectly straight teeth at his throat and hands straying from hips to other places...

He felt himself flushing deeply. Had he really just thought that about his friend? About another _man_? He couldn't... He wasn't... Was he? And over _Nate_? He was just overwhelmed. That was it. Nate had a habit of mock-flirting with him. The mix of that and Nate's close friendship were putting these thoughts in his head. That and it had been _way_ too long since he'd gotten laid. Jesus, he needed to get some.

"RJ?"

"Hm? What?" He was startled out of his reverie, and for one horrible moment he thought Nate knew what he had been thinking about somehow.

"Where is Duncan?"

"Huh? Oh, he's back in the Capital Wasteland. He's staying with some old friends in Big Town."

"Big Town?"

"It's where the kids from Little Lamplight move when they hit 16."

He nodded, then seemed to notice MacCready's discomfort. "Hey, you okay?"

"Yeah! Yeah, I'm fine."

He didn't seem to buy it. MacCready's mouth felt dry all of a sudden.

"We can do this. You know that, right?"

The merc's eyes widened slightly, and he sighed in relief, grasping the excuse Nate had given him.

"Yeah. It's a big deal. That this is actually happening."

"I know." Nate smiled softly. "We're gonna fix your boy."

MacCready felt a surge of happiness and affection for the man beside him. "Thanks. I just want you to know that even if we don't get the cure, this means a heck of a lot to me." Nate's eyes crinkled at the corners, his smile turning from comforting to genuinely happy.

"I like seeing you happy."

MacCready felt a smile break across his face, his eyes flicking downwards and his cheeks warm. He didn't know what to say to that. Nate hummed a laugh, then set his eyes on the road again.

 

Just as Nate said, it didn't take them long at all to reach the old research facility. It looked as creepy as he'd left it. Instinctively, his hand went to his gun, unslinging it. Noticing MacCready readying his weapon, Nate did the same, the smooth noise of metal against metal meeting his ears as the redhead drew his blade.

"Alright. Game plan?" Nate spoke in a low voice.

"I have a password which I assume will get us into the labs. We just need to find the terminal I need to put it into."

Nate nodded, and headed towards the front entrance of the building.

The entrance was about what they expected; silent, wrecked and dirty. Nate immediately started picking things up and stashing them away in his pack, ignoring MacCready's disdainful look. They hadn't been exploring for long before they encountered the first ghoul. By this time, both of them knew the drill. Reluctantly, MacCready let Nate run at them screaming, dispatching them before they could so much as look at the merc. The younger man did find himself appreciating this. Whilst he did find himself almost yelling Nate's name every time one of the filthy creatures jumped on him, he was grateful that Nate was consciously making an effort to reduce MacCready's contact with things that made him uncomfortable. Just one of those little things that proved that Nate's words weren't just words, that he did actually care about the merc.

Before long, they encountered a sealed off area, with a terminal beside a locked and airtight door.

"Uh... I'm assuming it's in there that we want to be, right?" Nate asked.

"Yup. Just ignore the repeated notices telling you the place is quarantined for a reason." MacCready grimaced. "I'm like ninety... ninety five percent sure whatever it was they wanted locked up has since stopped being a problem. I'm hoping anyway."

"Hmm... Well, I guess we'll find out, won't we?" He went to the terminal, and started tapping at the keys. "Okay, so it mentions the mandatory lockdown but it doesn't offer a way of reversing said lockdown."

"It wouldn't. I'm pretty sure we need to find the terminal of the person who was in charge around here. It'll probably be in an office near the top of the building."

"Of course it will." Nate backed out of the terminal. "Alright, upstairs it is then."

The terminal they were looking for turned out to be two floors above them. Apart from a few more ghouls and a lot more junk, they didn't come across much. It seemed that the front that the Med-Tek building put on was very mundane, with the sealed off section being the only part that betrayed anything more than an office block.

"Here." Nate stood up by a terminal in an office on the top floor. "I reckon it's this one you want." MacCready took his place, bending over to tap away at the keys. Sure enough, it looked like there was a way to override the lockdown. He plugged in the password and activated the programme which would let him through into the quarantined area.

"That's it. We're in." He straightened up and turned back to Nate. The older man was leaning casually against the edge of the desk. MacCready caught his eyes as they flicked upwards. Was it just him or did the man look... embarrassed? There was a spot of colour high on his cheeks.

"...What?" The younger man was confused for a moment, then he realised what position he'd just been in. His own cheeks flamed as he pushed past the redhead. "Pervert."

Nate's expression switched back to his charming smile, and he winked at MacCready as though he'd meant to get caught. "What can I say? You have a nice ass."

"You could at least try to be subtle about it." That was it. Nate had definitely been _looking_. How exactly was he meant to feel about that?

"It might have escaped your notice but subtle isn't exactly my forte."

"No, I definitely noticed." He tried to blow it off as casual. "Didn't even know you played for that team."

"Eh. I never much cared, in all honesty." He smirked. "I'm of the opinion that what's in a person's pants doesn't matter as long as they use it well."

MacCready almost choked on his own spit. Nate laughed.

"Take it as a compliment."

"...Uh huh."

 

MacCready would be lying if he said he wasn't mildly concerned as they unlocked the sealed door and entered the labs. He wasn't sure what he was expecting; for them to encounter some kind of poisonous gas that would leave then gasping, or for them to develop some kind of weird illness on the spot, but whatever it was he was glad it didn't happen. There was no denying the lower levels left the hairs on the back of his neck prickling uncomfortably, though. They came across a room which was lined with sealed chambers. MacCready almost jumped out of his skin when he walked past one of the tiny rooms and a feral ghoul threw itself bodily at the window of its cell. They quickly discovered that almost every one of the cells contained a ghoul of its own.

"I guess before the bombs fell these would have been the test subjects." Nate commented, a frown on his features.

"What kind of medical research place keeps people under lock and key whilst they conduct experiments on them?" MacCready felt mildly ill as he considered the implications of what he was seeing.

"The kind that doesn't ask permission." Nate held up a pair of handcuffs he picked up off a desk. MacCready had a flash of being bound and helpless as faceless scientists jabbed him full of needles that would make him sick and shaky and delirious. He shuddered. They continued on their way, only to find that the stairwell was blocked with debris.

"Great." MacCready felt his old friend desperation beginning to set in. "The building's caved in. I'm never gonna get that cure."

"Hey, don't give up so easily." Nate examined the blocked stairwell.

"It'll take us _weeks_ to move all this sh- this stuff. If we can move it at all."

"Mm..." Nate backtracked, beginning to walk around the creepy, cell-filled room.

"Honestly, Nate, I sort of expected this. I mean, not the caving in specifically, but that I wouldn't actually be able to get the cure, or that there wouldn't be a cure at all, or that-"

"Here!" Nate interrupted him, hand pressed the the glass of one of the cells.

"What?"

"Look." He gestured into the cell. MacCready followed his gaze. Sure enough, the bottom of the cell was wrecked, the floor warped and broken. There was a hole just big enough for a man to fit through, between two bent steel beams, visible under the white tiling.

"Hmm..." Nate glanced over to the desk sitting at the front of the room. "I think it might be time to put these poor creatures out of their misery, don't you?"

"...You want to let them out?"

"I don't think we have much of a choice, in all honesty. It didn't look like there was a way to open each door individually."

MacCready gave him a look. "That's a really stupid design."

"Hey, don't look at me. I didn't design it."

"Alright, fine, go unlock them. We can take them."

"You know it." Nate went to the terminal and once more began to tap away. There was a hissing sound, and the doors of the cells slid open. Immediately, MacCready readied his weapon.

It felt like mercy, finally killing them. Some of them didn't even attack the two of them, an action, or lack of such, which made MacCready wonder just what they'd been through. It was the first time he'd ever felt _pity_ for these creatures. Afterwards, Nate found several more pairs of handcuffs and a fair few rolls of duct tape as well. Then they descended to the floor below. Nate insisted upon going first, lowering himself carefully through the hole and hanging for a moment by his fingertips before dropping down and landing with a grunt.

"Coast seems clear."

MacCready copied him, looking around at their new surroundings. Desks, clipboards and glassware surrounded them. Leaving this room, they continued onwards. Ahead of them, they clearly heard the sound of more ghouls. And these ones didn't sound like they were locked up. Preparing themselves for more combat, they pressed on. One of their opponents turned out to be a glowing one. Nate took that one on whilst MacCready covered him, sending bullets into the heads of any of the other creatures should they get too close. He was getting better with these things, he had to admit. Maybe it was the disturbing frequency with which they two of them encountered them, but he seemed to be getting desensitised to it all. He still got unpleasant flashes every time one rushed at him or Nate stumbled as one attempted to pull him down with it, but now he was able to hold his ground and keep a steady aim instead of freaking out. Still, when Nate straightened up, splattered with vaguely glowing green liquid and his pipboy clicking unhappily, he still had to fight back a wave of revulsion. Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw one of the corpses move, and he put another spray of bullets into it.

"Arms down, soldier. We're done here." Nate sheathed his sword and held up the device on his wrist, which had calmed down. "No more red on the compass. We're good." MacCready nodded, and lowered his gun.

The next room was a lab. Rows of what used to be microscopically clean tables covered in test tubes, beakers, microscopes and various other scientific paraphernalia. MacCready found himself wondering how much someone would pay for one of those high-tech microscopes in this day and age. Probably not what it used to be worth. Not many people pursued the scientific arts nowadays.

"Hey, check it out." Nate had picked up an old magazine. "These things are always useful." He rolled it up and stuck it in his pack.

"It's gotta be in here somewhere." MacCready muttered. In all honesty he didn't know exactly what he was looking for. A bottle of pills? A syringe? A tonic? He decided he'd just pick up anything that looked vaguely medicine-like and they could figure out which one it was later.

"Hey, RJ?" Nate called from across the lab.

"Yeah?" The merc looked up from what he was doing. Nate held something up. It was a small, bright red tube with a needle tip at one end. MacCready dropped what he was doing and ran over, taking the thing from Nate's hands. "I'm guessing this is the fruit of their research. It says it's called 'prevent'. Do you think that's what we're looking for?" A quick scan of a clipboard lying next to where it had sat confirmed that this was supposed to be Med-Tek's 'miracle cure'- a cure for almost every pathogen-based disease. MacCready didn't know what a pathogen was, but what Duncan had was sure as hell a disease, and he'd take whatever he could get. As he realised that he held in his hand could potentially save his son's life, all his breath left him, leaving a sense of giddy excitement in its wake. He heard himself laugh, and then he threw himself at Nate, hugging him tightly. The older man had some of his own breath knocked out of him, but he laughed too and hugged him back.

"We did it! We got it! Oh my god, we're going to save him..." He stepped back. "We need to put this somewhere safe..." Nate took it from him, pulling out a torn and stained shirt, and wrapped the cylinder in it carefully. He then went to tuck it inside his jacket, but then seemed to have second thoughts and held it out for MacCready to take.

"You get a lot less beat up than I do. It's probably safer with you."

"...Yeah, you're probably right." MacCready took it, and slipped it inside a pocket in the inside of his duster. Next to his heart, alongside the little wooden soldier Lucy had given him. Then he looked up at the redhead. "Let's go. I need to take it to Daisy."

"Daisy? The old ghoul merchant in Goodneighbour?"

"That's the one. She can get it to a caravan that's headed to Big Town."

Nate nodded. "We'd better head out then."

 

As they made their way back out of the research building and on the road to Goodneighbour, MacCready couldn't stop the grin on his face, even when his cheeks hurt from smiling. This was the most hope he'd had since before Lucy died. If this... If this really worked, his son would live. He could go back and see him again. He wondered if Nate would come with him. Of course, MacCready would do his best to help Nate get his own son back, even if it did mean storming the Institute itself. He wondered how old Shaun was. If Shaun and Duncan could be friends. Maybe even brothers. He imagined bringing Duncan back to Covenant, and Shaun, in his head a tiny Nate with messy red hair and big hazel eyes, playing with him. The two kids wrestling with Nate, and Nate patching them up with care the way he patched up MacCready. Oh, how he wanted that picture to be real. And with this cure in his hand, he was one step closer to that.

"Hang in there, Duncan." He murmured to the sky. "Help is on the way."

 


	7. Words of Wisdom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hard work pays off. Good things can happen, even after a lifetime of bad. Sometimes you just have to open your eyes and see them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's exactly one month until I am legally an adult and that is terrifying to me. 
> 
> ANYWAY once again, I just want to say thank you for the love, every bit of feedback no matter how small means so much to me, and it's my duty to give you what you want in return. So here's chapter 7, and hopefully it won't be too long until we get to the juicy stuff *yay*. Keep it up, guys <3

MacCready was exhausted by the time they reached Goodneighbour. He'd been on his feet since they'd left Kingsport, pretty much anyway, and it was taking its toll on him. Still, he felt good. Really good. And when he and Nate strolled up to Daisy's store, he put on a big grin despite the weariness in his expression.

"Heya, Daisy. How's my favourite girl?"

"Aw, you flatter me MacCready. It's been too long." Her dark eyes met his, and she smiled, her face, wrinkled and scarred as it was, looking friendly. Then she turned her attention to Nate. "Since when have you been travelling with this tall drink of water then? You know Hancock's got his eye on this one, right?" For some reason, that irked MacCready ever so slightly. He ignored the feeling. "He's been telling me you owe him an adventure."

"Tell him not to worry. He'll get his turn. I've got just the job for him, as soon as I'm ready." MacCready gave him a look. Nate caught his eye and winked at him. "For now though, I've got to spend some quality time with this one."

"Ah, I see how it is." Daisy chuckled to herself. "So what brings you to my dusty little corner?"

"I got it, Daisy. I finally got it!" He drew out the cure, unwrapping it. Daisy looked at him in astonishment, before her face broke into a huge smile.

"That's wonderful, MacCready! I suppose you'll want me to send that off on the next caravan out of here, won't you?"

"Damn right I will." He handed it over.

"You're sure it'll get to him safe?" Nate asked.

"I'm sure. Daisy'll make sure of it, won't you?"

"'Course I will. Anything for you, sugar."

MacCready laughed, handing her the cure. She took it from him, turning it over in her hand before storing it carefully under the counter.

"Well, if RJ trusts you with something that important to him, then I do too."

"Treat him well, troublemaker. God knows he deserves it."

Nate swept into a bow. "Of course. Wouldn't have it any other way." MacCready stifled a laugh. The redhead straightened up, smirking at him.

"Alright. Don't be a stranger, either of you."

"We won't, don't you worry. And thank you. Thank you so much."

"Your boy'll be all fixed up in no time. You have my word."

MacCready nodded, and he and Nate turned to leave. As they left Goodneighbour behind them, Nate put his arm around MacCready's shoulders. MacCready was startled by the gesture, but didn't attempt to push him away.

"It's gotta feel good, huh? Knowing that you did it."

"Yeah. It does." MacCready smiled softly at the ground. His hand went to his breast pocket, where the little soldier was. _I did it, Lucy. I saved him._ He thought for a moment, about everything Nate had done for him. He never could have done it without Nate's help.

"...Hey." He stopped walking. Nate stopped with him, letting his arm fall back to his side.

"Yeah?" He sounded mildly concerned.

"Um... I just want to say thank you. For everything. This... None of this would have happened if it wasn't for you. I'd still have the Gunners on my tail, and that cure wouldn't be on its way to Duncan. So, um, I want to give you something." His hand went to his pocket, and he drew out the little wooden toy. The paint was worn and flaking in places, and its surface was smooth with wear. Nate frowned at him in curiosity as he turned it over in his fingers. "This might seem like a weird gift. And I know it's not worth much, at least not to most people. But... Lucy made this for me. When I first met her, I told her I was a soldier. I couldn't bring myself to tell her the truth. That I'm just a hired gun."

"I'm sure she would have loved you anyway. You know that, right?"

"I guess... Still, there was always that fear. That she wouldn't have thought me a good person if she knew the truth." He paused. "Anyway. I think... I feel like after what you did for Duncan, she'd approve of this." He held it out, and Nate took it, running his thumb over the little toy with care. "It's not much, but it matters a hell- uh, a heck of a lot to me." He bit his lip, trying to gauge Nate's reaction. The older man's hand closed around the figurine, and he looked up to meet MacCready's eyes.

"...Thank you." There was a sombre quality to his tone. Sincerity. "I'll treasure it."

MacCready smiled. "Good. I just want you to know how much our friendship means to me. You found me at a time when I didn't have a single friend in the world. There was, there still is no good reason why you should be doing so much for me. But you are. So... Thank you. Again."

For a moment it looked like Nate was going to say something. Then he closed his mouth and nodded. "It means a lot to me too. That's a good enough reason for me."

MacCready felt a bubble of happiness in his chest. "That's... That's all I had to say. Now let's go home. I'm freaking exhausted."

Nate laughed, and slipped the little toy into his jacket pocket. "A nap does sound good, I have to say."

 

They arrived back at Covenant in the middle of the night, and everyone was asleep, so they lowered their voices when they were within the walls of the settlement. Saying goodnight, they left for their separate beds. As MacCready stripped down and climbed into bed, once more thankful for the soft sheets and pillows, he thought about his son. He wondered what Duncan's reaction would be when he received the cure. As he closed his eyes, his thoughts turned to images. He saw Duncan looking as healthy as he had before he got sick, younger than MacCready knew he would be by this point- just as he remembered him. He imagined carrying him, his son's small, warm body cuddled up to him, his arms around his father's neck. God, he missed him. In his head, Nate was there. Duncan was shy in the face of the big, scarred man, but when Nate's expression softened into that kind, beautiful smile and he held out a hand in friendship, Duncan took it, allowing Nate to hug him. He heard Duncan's laugh as the redhead lifted him up on his shoulders. Somehow, he just knew that Nate would be great with Duncan. Maybe it was the knowledge that he was a father himself, or maybe it was just that the man seemed to have a knack for getting anyone to like him. His thoughts flitted again, focusing on Nate, as they seemed to do so often nowadays. Once again, his brain returned to the thoughts he'd had earlier. He refused to call it a fantasy, because calling it a fantasy would mean it was something MacCready actually wanted. And it wasn't. It was, at best, an intrusive thought. Still, his mind teetering on the brink of consciousness and with no risk of anyone seeing his reactions or expressions, he entertained the idea. He thought of Nate's touch, how warm his hands were. He imagined his thumb brushing his cheek, fingers tilting his chin up ever so slightly so he could brush their lips together. What it would feel like as Nate's fingers ran through his hair, whether his kisses would be rough or soft or a mix of the two, if he would use his teeth. In his head, Nate was shirtless, all his scars on display, and MacCready could feel them under his palms as he ran his hands over Nate's skin, the other man sighing gently at the touch. Dream-Nate trailed his lips down MacCready's throat, his stubble slightly scratchy but in a very pleasant way, leaving kisses and bites behind as he moved down the younger man's body, his touches drawing little gasps from him as he teased... All of a sudden, MacCready realised that his body was a little too hot, his underwear a little too tight. His thoughts jerked back to reality, killing the half-sleep he'd fallen into. Realising the position he was in, he let out a breath of exasperation. His first thought was to alleviate himself, but that was quickly quelled by the soft snores of the other people in the room. He wouldn't risk waking any of them up. _Plus_ , he thought, _there's no way I'm jacking off to thoughts of Nate. I would never be able to look him in the eye again._ So instead, he rolled over, burying his face in the pillow and trying desperately to ignore his problem as he attempted to fall asleep. It was uncomfortable, but fortunately he was tired enough that eventually, sleep won out and his exhaustion claimed him.

 

The next few days were spent relatively uneventfully. Nate and MacCready often went out, but only to nearby buildings, in which Nate's primary objective was to collect as much junk as physically possible. When they weren't out looking for stuff, Nate was round the back of his house, hands blackened with grease and clothes stained with paint and other stuff, working over one of his suits of power armour. When asked why, Nate finally divested the next step of his plan; he was to find a man named Virgil, who supposedly lived somewhere in the Glowing Sea. The modifications he was making to his power armour were designed to limit radiation exposure as much as possible. MacCready wasn't sure how to feel about this. On one hand, this was the only lead Nate had on finding Shaun, and MacCready couldn't justify trying to talk him out of it if so much was at stake. On the other, the Glowing Sea was widely renowned for being the most dangerous place in the Commonwealth, saturated with radiation, home to giant radscorpions and the most vicious species of deathclaw. This last, MacCready was particularly concerned about. He'd heard the rumours that even a full suit of power armour couldn't keep a person safe from them, and since Nate's last encounter with the beasts, he didn't want the redhead anywhere near them ever again. Half of him wanted to insist upon going with him, but even as he suggested it he knew that Nate would say no. And to be fair, he understood. In order for MacCready to have a prayer of survival, he would have to wear power armour as well, doubling Nate's work and the time it would take for them to be ready to go. And Nate assured him he would not be going alone; he would be taking Hancock with him. As a ghoul, Hancock would be immune to the radiation, and he certainly knew how to handle himself in a fight.

"Besides." Nate said. "I owe him an adventure. He's been wanting a vacation from his mayoral duties and a feel like a trip to the Glowing Sea might be just what he's looking for."

In the end, MacCready conceded the point, but made Nate promise to return as soon as he could. Nate smiled softly as he agreed.

 

Then one day, Preston approached him.

"Letter for you. Arrived on one of the caravans passing through." He held up a beat up envelope. MacCready took it, his heart fluttering in his chest.

"Thanks..."

Taking the envelope, he read the writing on the front. _Robert MacCready_. His name, in spidery, messy handwriting. Retreating to the main bedroom for privacy, he grabbed himself a cola and sat on the bed, kicking off his shoes so he could sit with his back against the headboard. There, he tore open the envelope and pulled out the paper inside. Out the letter fell a second envelope. Before opening this, MacCready's eyes scanned the paper.

_Bobby, hi_

_Just wanted to say thanks, and well done. I was seriously worried I'd have to give you the bad word before the year was out, but it seems that's not a problem anymore. Duncan is recovering nicely. He looks a hell of a lot better already. Before we know it he'll be up and about, playing with the other kids like he should be. He wrote to you himself as soon as he was strong enough to. Sitting up in bed, talking about how much he wants to see you. Visit soon._

_Your friends, Nick & Sue_

 

MacCready felt his breath hitch, and his eyes burned. The flutter in his chest had turned into a bubble of joy, making him vaguely giddy. With shaking hands, he reached for the other envelope. The writing on this one was large, obviously childish. One word- _Dad_ \- with a smiley face drawn next to it. MacCready had to swallow back tears as he opened it. Inside was a scrap of paper covered in words and pictures, and a photo. Pulling out the latter, he turned it over. It was a photo of a young boy, five or six at most, sat up under a dirty blanket. Despite looking unhealthily thin, with prominent cheekbones and hair a little too long sticking to his forehead, he was beaming at the camera, grinning a gap-toothed smile. His eyes were bright and happy. MacCready covered his mouth with his hand, staring at the picture. He hadn't seen Duncan for so long. He had Lucy's colouring, dark hair and skin and brown eyes, but MacCready could see himself in the shape of his nose and eyes. When MacCready had left, he had been so ill he'd spent more of his time asleep than awake, shaking and sweating under his blanket. That and his whole body had been covered in hideous bruise-coloured boils, dark blue and painful. To see him looking so happy, so alive, despite it all...

He unfolded the paper.

_Dear Dad_

_Thank you verry much for the medsin, I feel loads better alredy. I miss you so so much, and I hop your okay in Boston. Pleas come back soon, becos when I'm properly better I want to go on adventurs with you again. I do lik it here but iv been in bed for so long and knock knock says I should go outsid when I can. If you can't come back then rite soon. Maybe one day I can go to Boston with you. Id lik that a lot._

_Love you verry much,_

_Duncan xoxo_

MacCready sniffed, wiping his now wet cheeks with his sleeve. On the other side of the letter was a rough pencil drawing of a man pointing a gun at a deathclaw, its claws, teeth and horns exaggerated in a comical way. He recognised himself by the hat and goatee, and choked a laugh, resolving to treasure the drawing forever.

He picked up the photo once more, committing every detail of the picture to memory. And that was how Nate found him later, clutching the photo and the letter with tear tracks on his cheeks.

"...RJ?" MacCready heard the door open and Nate saying his name, and he looked up, hurriedly wiping the tears from his face. Nate's expression showed concern, and for a moment MacCready didn't understand why. Then he realised his appearance could have suggested something very different. "Are you okay?"

He nodded hurriedly, scrambling to his feet and holding out the letter. Nate took it, and scanned the writing. When he looked up again, there was untold happiness in his expression, and when he spoke, his voice was quiet and breathless. "That's... That's amazing, RJ. I'm so happy for you."

"I can't believe we actually did it..." MacCready's voice was uneven and shaky, his chest bursting. He wanted to scream, to jump up and down, to hug Nate until it hurt. But all he did was gasp in shaky breaths and laugh hoarsely. Nate did it for him, pulling him into a tight hug, to which MacCready could only bury his face in Nate's shoulder and clutch at his shirt, as full of emotion as he was. He inhaled deeply, trying to calm his breathing. Nate smelled of oil, grease and sweat. "Thank you. Thank you so much."

"Any time." Nate held him for a few seconds longer, then let go. MacCready stepped back.

"Here." He held out the photograph of Duncan. Nate took it, looking at it closely.

"This is him?" MacCready nodded, and Nate smiled softly. "Yeah. I can see it. How old is he now?"

"He's five. Turns six in three months."

"Wow..." Nate gave the photo one last look, then handed it back. "Treasure it. And maybe one day I'll go with you to visit him. I'd love to meet him. If you're okay with that, of course."

"Yes! Yes, that would... I'd like that." MacCready's heart jumped at the thought. He felt himself smiling. "I'd like that a lot."

"Then it's settled. Soon as I get Shaun back, we'll go on a trip." He clapped MacCready on the shoulder. "Oh, speaking of which, I'm very nearly done with my project. I reckon I'll be done by tomorrow. Which means I'll be going either tomorrow or the next day." He was quiet for a moment. "I don't know how long I'll be gone."

"...Okay." Some of the excitement seemed to drain from MacCready at Nate's words. He frowned just a little. There was a silence between them. Awkward, like both had something to say but neither was sure exactly how to say it.

"I don't know if... If you had plans at all."

MacCready shook his head. "No I'll stay here. It's safe, comfortable, no shortage of food or water. I've got nowhere better to be." _Not without you_.

"Alright. Well, I'll try to be there and back as quickly as I can."

"Yeah. You better." MacCready half smiled at him. There was another awkward silence, so he nodded and left Nate to his room. He swore he felt Nate's eyes on him as he walked away.

 

That unspoken awkwardness stuck with MacCready. Over the next day and a half it remained in the air. Not the kind of awkward that made spending time with someone unpleasant, just the sort that suggested there was more to be said that just wasn't making it out into the open. They still laughed, sat beside each other at meals, exchanged sly looks and jokes. It was just there in the gaps between conversations, every time they parted ways. It had MacCready wondering what exactly it was that he, or Nate, or maybe both, wanted to say. When he tried to put it into coherent thought the best he could come up with was _Don't go. Don't leave me. I want you here by my side._ But he knew he couldn't say that. Nate had to do this. A small, horrible voice in the back of his head insisted that Nate believed he _wasn't_ going to come back. Either because he believed he wasn't going to survive or because he knew he had to go away somewhere for a very, very long time. Sort of like when MacCready had been preparing to leave to look for Duncan's cure. He hadn't known how to tell the little boy that his dad was leaving, for what could be months or even years. It was coming up to a year and a half that he had been away now. Surely Nate wasn't planning on being gone that long? Not without telling him? He did his best to ignore that little voice, locking it in a box in the back of his mind. No, it was probably something far less sinister. When he sat by the fire, turning the pair of gold wedding rings he kept on him at all times over and over in his fingers, he didn't look upset or scared. Just... Confused.

"Cap for your thoughts?" MacCready sat beside him. His voice seemed to break Nate out of a sort of trance, as he blinked a few times and shook his head.

"Sorry. Spaced out a bit there." He slipped the rings back into his pocket, before looking up and smiling.

"I noticed. You've been acting kind of weird all day."

"Have I?" Nate's eyes betrayed a flash of concern.

"Yeah. What's bothering you?"

"I don't know." He looked back down at his hands. "Just thinking about Ever, I guess."

"Your wife?" MacCready was taken aback. This wasn't what he had expected.

"Yeah." He frowned a little. "I suppose you're probably the best person to talk to about this, actually. If you don't mind, of course."

"Well, I did say come to me if you need help, so... yeah. Go for it."

Running a hand through his hair, pulling some loose accidentally so it fell over his forehead, he sighed. "I hope this doesn't change what you think of me."

"Why would it?"

"Well... The problem is that there isn't a problem."

MacCready frowned, not understanding.

"Remember a couple weeks ago, we had a conversation about how I was getting by, and you told me that any sane person would be really torn up about what had happened to me?"

"Yeah?"

"That's just it. It's not like I don't care. Finding Shaun is obviously my biggest priority right now, and I'd do anything for him. But there's still hope for him. He's out there somewhere, and I can find him. But Ever... She's gone. For good. So it's like..." He took a deep breath. "It's like she doesn't matter any more. I'm over it. I'm ready to move on already. After I watched her get murdered in front of me. I hold those rings in my hand and all I feel is confusion, and concern for _myself_. I can't help but wonder if there's something wrong with me, if this place has gotten to me, or if I was always like this and I just never got the chance to notice it before." He wasn't meeting MacCready's eyes. "I know that makes me sound like some kind of sociopath, but I promise I'm not. At least I _think_ I'm not, because I do care. It just doesn't feel right that I should be so ready to put it behind me already. To put _her_ behind me."

Sensing he was done talking, MacCready thought for a moment, processing what Nate had said. He thought about his own feelings about Lucy. It was true, even though it had been years since her death, he still felt a stab of grief every time he thought about her, even if it wasn't as pronounced as it used to be. As for being ready to move on... Yeah, he'd thought about it from time to time, but he'd never actively tried to find someone new. But the way Nate phrased it? It sounded like he'd already moved on. Found someone new. At this thought, he felt another hot flash in his chest, and he found himself wondering if it was him. Maybe even hoping. He pushed it away. He could work through his own issues later.

"I don't know. It doesn't sound like a bad thing."

Nate glanced up at him. "You think so?"

"Missing someone you can't get back sucks. A lot. In a place like this, where losing someone can happen any time, really, being able to focus on what you've got instead of what you can't have sounds like something a lot of people wish they could do. I know I wish I could. I'd give anything to not miss Lucy anymore."

"And... You don't think that's an insult to her memory?"

MacCready shrugged. "I think at the end of the day she'd want me to be happy. And I'd like to think your wife would want the same for you. As long as you care about the people you do have and treat everyone who matters to you with respect, I don't really see a problem. And I know you do that."

Nate smiled. "Thanks. That helps."

"Is that all that was bothering you?"

"It's all that I wanted to get off my chest right now, I think. And I know that you're worried about me heading off to the Glowing Sea, but I promise I'm not planning on doing anything too crazy, so you don't have to worry quite so much."

MacCready chuckled. "Is it that obvious?"

"To me? Yup." Nate grinned.

 

After that, Nate seemed to ease up a bit, relaxing more around him. And when tomorrow came, and with it Nate's plans to leave, he hugged MacCready tightly before climbing into his newly modified, shiny power armour suit. He said goodbye to each of his friends in turn, promising to be back as soon as he could, taking Codsworth's meticulously put together pack of supplies with a laugh that echoed from inside the suit's helmet. MacCready could have sworn the old robot sounded like he was tearing up as he bade farewell to Nate, and wished him the best of luck in finding a way to get Shaun back. MacCready wondered what he was going to do while Nate was away. He'd have to find a project or something to keep his mind and his hands busy. Nick had his cases, Piper her paper, Preston the Minutemen and Codsworth seemed to find great joy in just keeping Covenant looking clean and well-kept. As for Cait... Well, Cait had Preston. MacCready wondered if the ex-Combat Zone fighter would spar with him. Maybe in this newfound free time he could learn to fight up close. That way, when Nate came back, he could fight alongside him rather than covering him from a distance like he had been doing. It wasn't that he _couldn't_ fight in close combat, but he wasn't as strong as his opponents more often than not, and the few times he had ended up in fist fights, he'd usually come away spitting blood and sore for days. His best tactic in those situations was to tire his opponent out by simply dodging as many hits as possible and getting up again every time they landed one. Maybe she could teach him how to use that to his advantage. Of course, there was also the fact that he considered Cait to be his closest friend in Covenant after Nate.

 

He felt Nate's absence almost immediately. Within the hour of his leaving, he found himself sitting at the desk in Nate's house, absent mindedly sharpening a pencil with a switchblade. He was considering writing back to Duncan, but he wasn't entirely sure what to write. The letters and the photograph were taped to the wall by his bed, and he knew it would make Duncan's day to hear from his estranged father for the first time in too long. But now he was sat here, pencil in hand, and his mind was blank. He couldn't write about what he'd been doing, not really. Joining the Gunners to scrape together caps? Taking part in the murder of innocents to fund his own ends? Betraying them and selling his services to anyone who would pay him well enough? Nor could he tell the boy when he'd be coming back, since even he didn't know. The only part of his life which he could even contemplate telling Duncan about was the past month or so. He supposed he could talk about Covenant, and it would reassure Duncan to know that his dad was safe and happy. Plus, he supposed, the kid would love his story about the deathclaws. To know that his dad _had_ actually shot one, just like in the picture he'd drawn.

Having decided what to write, he began looking for something to write it on. He opened one of the desk's drawers. In it was Nate's ever-growing collection of holotapes, as well as a stack of seemingly random scraps of paper and folders. MacCready didn't know why he insisted upon keeping every note, document and letter he found, but he was grateful that it gave him plenty of paper to work with. He found a sheet which was only lightly torn and stained, with one line of scrawled handwriting across the top. He scribbled over the writing and then flipped the paper over and began to write. He started with a short note thanking Nick and Sue for taking care of Duncan for him, then wrote directly to Duncan. Now that he had actually put pencil to paper, the words were coming easily. He wrote about meeting Nate, about Covenant, about their adventures together. He told in great detail the story of their trip to the lighthouse, minus all the emotional trauma. He wrote about how much he missed his son, and how badly he wanted to come home, and that he would if he wasn't helping his new friend to save _his_ son's life, too. Before he knew it, he had filled up both sides of the piece of paper. Smiling to himself, he signed the letter and folded it in half. He'd send it with the next caravan that passed through on its way to Goodneighbour.

 

Pocketing the letter, he left the house and headed to the bar. He saw Cait and Preston sat together, just talking. For some reason, the image seemed significant to him. Something about the way Preston was looking at Cait, the way his eyes were lit up and a soft smile graced his lips reminded MacCready of Nate. Cait was chatting animatedly about something or another and from time to time she would casually touch Preston, a hand on the shoulder or the knee, a nudge and a grin. It was a strange juxtaposition, he thought. On one hand, the affection and love between them was obvious, glaringly so. But on the other... The behaviour was so familiar to him. He couldn't help but wonder if that's what he and Nate looked like to outsiders. With these thoughts on his mind, he sat at the bar, lighting a cigarette and thinking. He couldn't have been sat there long when he heard a noise, and looked up. Preston had walked in, a content look on his face.

"Hey."

"Hey yourself. Thought I'd come say hi, since you're looking a bit lonely all cooped up in here by yourself." The Minutemen lieutenant poured himself a glass of bourbon and sat down. "He'll be fine, you know?"

"Yeah. I know." He was quiet for a moment, taking a drag from his cigarette. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure thing."

"You're in love with Cait, right?"

Preston's eyes widened slightly, and he chuckled. "Wow. You don't mess around, do you?" He frowned a little. "We haven't been together for an awfully long time, but... Yeah. I guess I am."

"How can you tell?"

Preston gave him a look of amusement and mild exasperation. "I don't know. It just kind of is. It's like... Being with her makes things better."

"Like she makes all your problems go away?"

Preston shook his head. "Not quite. It's more like... She acknowledges that I have problems and that that's alright. She doesn't fix them, as such, but she makes it so that they're nowhere near as much of a burden to bear."

"Oh." MacCready frowned slightly.

"Of course, there's also the fact that she's the first person I look for when I come home, that she's the one in my thoughts before I fall asleep, that even when she's not around she's the one I think of the most." He smiled knowingly, taking a long draught of his drink. "Looking back, I really should've said something sooner. It's a good thing she's so forward because otherwise neither of us might've actually told the other for far too long." MacCready looked up at him. "Everyone deserves their little slice of happiness, RJ. You included."

MacCready felt himself blushing a little, and he turned his gaze back to the only slightly scratched and stained bar.

"Well. I'll leave you to your thoughts, shall I?" Preston drained his glass and stood to leave. He closed the door behind him, leaving MacCready alone to tap ash into the tray and consider what Preston had told him. To consider if he really was in love.

 


	8. Tough Decisions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MacCready is in a bit of trouble. He's second guessing himself more than ever before, and he has to do something about it before it gets the better of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Am I mean? I feel mean. Oh well, I'm sure you'll enjoy it. Also I got what felt like a huge influx of feedback on the last chapter and I'm v happy so thank you!!! And it's officially the third of Halloween I'm sorry I don't make the rules.

Preston's words weighed heavily on MacCready. He was starting to question himself, in more ways than one. Over the next few days, all he could think about was his relationship with Nate. He found himself weighing up the truths and the lies, the proof and the disproof. He thought about the way Nate acted around him, and the way he acted around Nate. The exchanged looks, the soft smiles, the closeness. How Nate flirted with him, and how MacCready blushed like a fu- a freaking virgin whenever he did. He thought about the fantasies- and yes, they were fantasies- that cropped up in his thoughts with increasing frequency, leaving him feeling awkward and uncomfortable late at night or first thing in the morning. Now that he actually stopped to consider it, the mounting evidence was downright concerning in its obviousness. Without Nate and his wild adventures there to scramble his thoughts and distract him from the workings of his own mind, living on the west bank of denial was becoming harder and harder, and he was beginning to seriously consider that he, Robert Joseph MacCready, was, in fact, gay. Or, well, bisexual, he supposed. It was a jarring thought, to say the least. He'd never questioned himself like this before, having always been confident in his sexuality because he'd found Lucy, loved her and had a child with her. He remembered all the jokes, first with the immature kids at Little Lamplight and then with the crass, offensive humour of the Gunners, made at the expense of people in sexual relationships with people of the same gender, especially men. Since he'd gone freelance he had noticed that people, especially those in Goodneighbour, were a lot more carefree about the whole issue, openly flirting with other members of their gender without cause for concern. Heck, he'd been hit on by guys in the Third Rail from time to time, and he had declined them the same way he would have declined a girl he wasn't interested in. It had never gotten to him before. But somehow this was bringing him back to those childish, immature assumptions. Maybe it was that it was now his own identity, his own life being pulled into question. Still, he recalled the casual way Cait had brought up Preston's crush on Nate, and how nonchalantly Nate had dropped into conversation that the gender of his sexual partners was not necessarily a concern for him. Clearly these were not people who cared about that kind of thing.

 

So was that it, then? Was he ready to admit that he was, in fact, attracted to Nate, and maybe even in love with him? If the answer was yes, what came next? He supposed that it would have to be telling Nate, and that was a whole new issue in of itself. He had constructed a million and one scenarios in his head of different ways he could come clean to his friend, and all of them seemed to end with him embarrassing himself horribly. What if Nate didn't want a relationship? What if he was in love with someone else? What if he _laughed_ at MacCready for thinking his flirting was real? What if somehow MacCready messed up his words, or his actions, and ended up making himself look like a complete idiot? And, possibly even more scary than all that, what if Nate liked him back? Then they'd actually be a couple, who kissed and touched and _loved_ each other, and that was simultaneously the most wonderful and most terrifying thought of all.

 

He was considering bringing it up with Cait, asking for her advice on how to broach the subject, but he had a feeling he knew what the ex-fighter's response would be; to just spit it out and hope for the best. During the time he spent with her whilst Nate was away he was sure that she had picked up on his malaise. If she did, though, she didn't press him to talk. Instead, she helped him let out some stress through lessons in hand-to-hand combat. She seemed grateful for something to do in Preston's absence, and when he suggested it, she was only too happy to oblige. That was how he found himself divested of his hat and jacket, hands wrapped in gauze, pinned to the ground by an angry Irish redhead. She taught him how to use his agility to his advantage, and how even large opponents could be taken down if you played your cards right. He gained quite the collection of bruises as the days went by, as Cait was far from gentle with him, but after a week or so he did manage to get her on the ground. She laughed, praising him for his progress, and then proceeded to flip them over so he was beneath her, arm twisted halfway up his back. He growled and complained when he couldn't win, but beneath his outward indignation he was glad for the company. When they returned from one of their impromptu boxing matches, bruised and mildly bloody but laughing and joking together, they would pitch up at the bar with a glass of something strong and tend to their injuries. There, they would talk about themselves and their lives so far. MacCready learned about all the suffering the ex-fighter had been through, and how first Nate and then Preston had helped her out of her self-destructive habits. "He understands," she'd said, "what it's like to just not care anymore."

"But... Why didn't you just... y'know..." He wasn't sure how to phrase it in a tactful way.

"Not brave enough, I s'pose. As for Preston, well he had the rest of his group with him, didn't he? Couldn't just go jump off a building with people, even just a few already doomed people relying on you."

"Mm." MacCready stared down into his glass. "Why were those people tagging after him anyway?"

"They were what was left o' his faction of the Minutemen after the Quincy massacre."

"Quincy massacre?"

"You haven't heard of it? Group o' Gunners opened fire on the townsfolk. Minutemen tried to step in, but there weren't enough o' them willing to step in, and after one o' their officers defected there was no contest, really."

MacCready's eyes widened slightly as he recalled a memory, a memory of looking down a scope at a man in a blue coat with his hands raised, coming to negotiate a treaty, with orders to shoot the second he drew a weapon. It had been a rough day, and they'd lost a fair few men, but they were mustering for a second attack, determined to gain what they saw as an excellent place to set up a well-fortified outpost. Being the group's resident sniper, he'd been removed from the action, stationed high up in buildings and on rooftops. He remembered the enemy being a ragtag group of people, well-armed but disorganised, their biggest advantage being their location. He hadn't distinguished between targets; anyone not in Gunner green was an enemy. And as soon as the man in blue- the same blue as Nate's General's coat- had come to them with the news of how to overcome the town's formidable defences, the battle was no longer a fair fight. MacCready had cheered as their last fighters fell, but his comrades hadn't stopped. Instead of just taking over, the Gunners turned their weapons on innocents; farmers, those too weak to fight, _children_. That had been the last straw for MacCready. He hadn't been able to justify pointing his gun at innocents, and so he had run. And the worst moment of all, when he had run into a group of settlers trying to do the same; to escape the massacre, and the _hate_ that had been in the leader's eyes as he pointed the barrel of his laser musket at MacCready, ready to end his life as the disgraced ex-Gunner turned tail and ran. He remembered all this, and suddenly his mouth was dry and his pulse racing.

"Hey, RJ." Cait was frowning at him. "You alright there?"

"Actually... I have heard of it." His voice was quiet and shaky. He swallowed. Probably best she find out now instead of by accident later. "I was there."

She blinked. "No shit. Did you fight?"

He nodded, feeling sick. "It was what made me quit."

"The _Gunners_? You were on their side?"

"I was until they started firing on innocents. Then I ran."

She stared at him. He wanted to bury himself in a shallow grave.

"Well... Props for quittin' while you were ahead, I s'pose."

MacCready barked a short, sharp, bitter laugh. "I was never ahead. I shot plenty of them when they were shooting back at me."

"...Does Preston know?"

MacCready shook his head. "Guess I should just be lucky he didn't recognise me. Then again, I didn't recognise him."

"Huh."

There was a pause, in which MacCready's fingers twitched around the glass he was holding, his stomach twisted in knots.

"Listen, you can't beat yerself up about it. It's in the past, and you left them. If you had stayed an' killed those settlers we would be havin' a different conversation, but you didn't. Everyone makes mistakes, 'specially when they're with the wrong people."

MacCready gave her a smile, grateful but still uncomfortable.

"Besides. I'm sure you're more'n making up for it with what you and Nate have been doing."

"I guess. Do you think Preston would hate me if he found out?"

Cait thought for a moment, then shook her head. "Nah. He might be good at holding a grudge but he respects people who made the right choice in the end."

"...Okay. Probably not the best thing to bring up in casual conversation though."

Cait nodded, grimacing. "You're probably right about that one."

 

Time went on. One week turned into two, then three. Life went on, but with each passing day the seed of concern in MacCready's chest grew. He had no idea how long was a reasonable amount of time to wait, and he was convinced that it had already been and gone. He missed Nate with an intensity that had him staying up late into the night, doing nothing but staring at the ceiling, and pulling up a chair outside the walls of Covenant with a couple of Nate's collected comic books, glancing up at every noise. It was emotionally exhausting, especially now he had the weight of the truth of his feelings on his shoulders. When his friends could distract him, they did, but he always found himself reverting to a state of eternal impatience and worry. More than once, he had fallen asleep in his chair, only to wake up on one of the beds in Nick's office, or something to that effect. He could see that the others were concerned for him, which he didn't understand. Surely they should be concerned for _Nate_. He'd been gone for far too long. He found himself trying to calculate how long it should take, only to fail when he realised he had no idea how far into the Glowing Sea Nate would be going. And he'd have to track down this Virgil guy, since it was highly unlikely that he would know where he was straight away. Plus his detour through Goodneighbour to pick up Hancock, plus, knowing Nate, some stops on the way to explore local sites of interest. It wasn't _implausible_ , he supposed. He hoped.

 

So it was that when Nate did return, MacCready was perched in his chair, one leg over the arm rest and a comic book open in his lap. It was getting into the evening, after everyone had eaten, and he was tired, his attention failing. He found himself reading the same pages over and over without really registering what was happening. He was so lost in his own world that at first the far off sounds didn't register. He vaguely registered voices, and the loud clanking of power armour. He glanced up when the sounds approached, and gasped in a breath. They were unmistakeable, the suit of grubby armour and the much shorter figure in a long red coat. MacCready scrambled to his feet, leaving the comic on the chair and running to meet them.

"Nate! Hey, Nate!" He slowed as he approached them, a huge smile on his face.

"RJ!" Nate's all too familiar voice echoes from within the armour, and he reached up to remove the helmet. MacCready almost laughed out of sheer joy. Nate was grinning wildly, his red hair sticking to his forehead, looking slightly damp with sweat and dirt. "Fuck, I missed that face."

MacCready did laugh then, and he fell into stride beside the pair. "Heya, Hancock."

"Ah, if it isn't Goodneighbour's favourite troublemaker." The ghoul replied in his deep, hoarse voice. "How've you been holding up?"

"I'm alright. What about you two? No major injuries?"

"Nah. Had a close call with a couple radscorpions but my armour held up nicely."

"This fella's insane." Hancock commented, sounding amused and incredulous in equal measure. "Ran straight at the things. If he wasn't in that suit he would have been stung half a dozen times over."

"Trust me, I know."

They entered Covenant together, greeting the other inhabitants.

"Glad to see you're in one piece, Blue." Piper commented, smiling wryly. "Wouldn't have trusted Hancock with you myself, but there you go."

"Nice to see you too, Piper." The mayor drawled, grinning lazily.

"So does that mean you're Blue's latest charity case then? You planning on sticking around?"

Hancock glanced around the town, his black eyes widening slightly. "If the inside of these buildings is as pretty as the outside and you got a plentiful supply of booze and chems, I could definitely see myself getting comfy here."

"Check and check." Nate smirked. "I'll have to show you my stores."

"Wait, don't you have important mayoral stuff to do? People to watch, a town to manage, that kind of thing?"

Hancock snorted derisively. "You know Goodneighbour basically runs itself. Plus I've left Fahrenheit in charge. And I've been in charge for a while now. I deserve a holiday."

"Fair enough."

 

Naturally, the first thing Nate did after saying hello to everyone was unload all the stuff he had collected on his trip. He parked the power armour back on its station and immediately got to work. MacCready found himself watching him as he did so. After the initial excitement of seeing him wore off, it occurred to him that now that Nate had returned, MacCready would be tasked with having that talk with him. The talk that he had been mentally obsessing over for the past three weeks. And suddenly he was scared to be alone with Nate, even though he knew logically he had no reason to be. Hancock had popped a couple mentats and was draped over the stairs at the front of one of the houses, talking in a low, languid voice to an amused-looking Nick. MacCready watched them absent mindedly, until a voice behind him made him jump.

"You gonna talk to him then?"

"What?" MacCready spun to face the voice. Cait was grinning at him.

"You know. Talk to him. Finally get that pretty arse in bed."

" _What_?" MacCready squeaked, blushing furiously.

Cait laughed. "What, ya think I didn't notice?"

"No! I mean... Well, he's busy. I should... He should get settled first."

"Ah, I see." Cait's eyes flickered from him to something behind him, and she smirked. "Well, good luck with that." And she strode off. MacCready was a little confused by this until he turned around and was met with the sight of Nate striding towards him. Immediately, a thousand and one thoughts raced through his head, leaving him in a flustered and mildly panicked state.

"Hey, RJ, have you been going through my stuff?"

"What?"

"You know. My papers, my holotapes, my comics."

"Oh. Yeah."

"Don't worry, it's not a problem, it's just that nothing's in the right place."

"You actually have a system for all that junk?"

"Yeah." Nate frowned, his eyes taking in MacCready's tense stance. "Are you okay?"

"What? Yeah, yeah I'm fine." Nate didn't seem to buy it. "I just..." He sighed. "I missed you, okay?"

Nate's expression softened. He smiled. "I told you not to worry about me."

"Doesn't work like that, unfortunately."

"No, I suppose it doesn't." There was a pause as Nate considered him. "I missed you too."

For a split second, MacCready considered just spitting it out. Just getting it out in the open, _I think I'm in love with you, Nate_. But instead, he just hugged the man tightly.

"Next time, I'm going with you. That way I won't worry about you nearly so much."

"Do I get a say in this?"

"No. And Nate?"

"Mm?"

MacCready wrinkled his nose. "You stink."

Nate's laugh was low and deep, comforting and content. "That's what three weeks in power armour does to you, unfortunately." He stepped back. "I'm definitely going to wash off, because I feel as gross as I apparently smell."

"Did you not take it off once the whole time?"

"Well obviously I didn't sleep in it, but other than that, not really."

"Hm. Well, don't let me stop you."

Nate nodded, giving him one more smile. "I'll tell you everything later, yeah?"

"Yeah."

With that, he walked away. MacCready found himself smiling slightly as he watched him leave, going back into his house.

 

Cait was in her usual spot, and MacCready decided to spend the evening with her while Nate cleaned himself and his gear up.

"Loverboy still busy then?"

"Yeah. I don't know what he did to that armour but it looks like it's gonna take some time to get back into proper working order."

Cait chuckled. "Alright then. Pull up a seat." She poured him a shot of vodka. "Drink of the night. It's like downing bleach, but once you get past the taste it's not bad."

MacCready knocked it back and winced. "You're not kidding."

They spent the next couple hours drinking, smoking and generally passing the time. MacCready was in the talkative stage of drunkenness, and, as always, his thoughts were turning to Nate.

"I don't know what to do. I really don't."

"What? About what?"

"What do you think about, dumba- idiot?"

"Oh." Cait was quiet for a moment, her expression exaggeratedly pensive. "Why can't ya just tell him?"

"What, just walk up to him like 'hey, Nate, you know I'm having a freaking identity crisis because I think I might be more than a little bit in love with you and I have no idea how to deal with that fact'?"

"Well... Yeah."

"I can't do that!"

"Why not?"

"Because... Because!" MacCready stated, exasperated.

"That's not a proper reason." Cait pointed out. MacCready growled in frustration at her lack of understanding. "Come on, he's not that scary. And I'd say odds are he definitely likes you too. I mean, have you seen the way he acts around ya?"

"And what if he does? What then?"

"Then you get some o' that sweet dick." Cait winked at him.

MacCready's thoughts stuttered to a halt once more as he considered that. His fantasies actually coming to life... "I don't, I mean, I've never... Not with a guy..."

"Yeah, but you know how it works right?"

He thought back to the crude insults thrown around the Gunners, and the dirty threats. "I get the gist, yeah." Then another thought occurred to him, and he blanched, slumping onto the bar. "Oh God. I'm not gonna be on top, am I?"

Cait burst out laughing, slapping his shoulder. He glared at her, and she took a deep breath, calming herself down before responding. "Aw, don't worry about it. I promise it doesn't hurt as much as you think it will."

"You've done it before?"

"Well, yeah, 'course I have. I'd do it to Preston, if he'd let me."

"And it doesn't hurt?"

Cait shook her head. "Not if ya do it properly. Worst part's afterwards. He fucks you good, you're not gonna be walkin' around much the next day."

MacCready considered that, and came to the conclusion that it would probably be worth it. "Alright. So you think I should do it?"

"Hell yeah! Everyone knows you two're good for each other. Just fuckin' go for it. You won't regret it."

"Tonight?"

She grinned at him. "Right now."

"What?"

"Do it right now, while you're all pumped. Before you chicken out."

He gave her a look, then got to his feet. "Fine."

"Wait!" She poured out one last shot. "For luck." They clinked glasses, downed them and then laughed at each others' expressions. "Alright, alright. Go get 'em, tiger. And I want all the details." She slapped him on the ass and he gave her one last glare before leaving.

The lights were on in Nate's house, and MacCready stopped outside his door, unsure as to whether or not he should knock. He settled for a few short sharp knocks before he pushed the door open. Nate was on his bed in a t shirt and slacks, flicking through a magazine. He looked up at MacCready's entrance. At the sight of him, all MacCready's confidence left him, and his mouth went dry.

"Evening. What can I do for you?" Nate asked, sounding pleased.

MacCready swayed slightly. "Uh... I just... Um... Can I talk to you?"

"Of course." He frowned. "Have you been drinking?"

"No!" Nate gave him a look. "Alright, maybe a bit. But this is serious, okay?"

"Okay." Nate closed the magazine and put it on the chest of drawers by his bed. Next to MacCready's toy soldier, he noticed with a note of happiness. "Talk to me."

He opened his mouth to speak, but found that all the words had left him. Feeling intensely awkward, he shifted from one foot to the other and cleared his throat.

"Ah... Well, um... While you were away I've been doing a lot of thinking. About you. And me. And I spoke to Preston and he seemed to think this was a good idea and so does Cait, actually it was Cait who told me I should come and talk to you now instead of putting it off because I would have put it off even though Preston basically told me that's a really bad idea and it's been keeping me up at night so I really do need to get it off my chest but-"

"RJ." Nate interrupted him calmly, a smirk on his lips. "You're rambling."

"Right." He took a deep breath. "I think I might have feelings for you." He shut up, like he was shocked by his own words. Then he looked up, trying to assess Nate's reaction. The other man was watching him, slightly wide eyed. He felt himself flushing. "So. Um. Yeah. I really just said that, didn't I?" He heard himself laughing nervously. "Wow. I'll just..." He gestured vaguely at the door. "See you." Feeling mortified, he walked back to the door and opened it, but before he could leave, a hand pushed it shut again. Nate had gotten up to stop him, and was now standing right behind him. His breath caught in his chest.

"RJ." Nate's voice was low and calm. Exactly the opposite of how MacCready felt. He felt a hand on his shoulder, and he turned to face him, his back against the door. The sudden proximity left him feeling slightly breathless. "Did you really think you could tell me that and then just leave?"

MacCready didn't respond, just stared up at Nate's amused face. His brain had effectively stopped working.

"No, I think you knew what you were getting yourself into." With the hand that was not resting on the door frame beside MacCready's head, he removed MacCready's hat and hung it on the top of the flagpole next to his door. "Because there's no way you didn't notice that I very much like you, too." And then his knuckles were brushing against MacCready's cheek ever so gently, trailing down to his jawline and tilting up his chin. "And you... know just how to tempt me..." MacCready's breath was uneven and he was feeling lightheaded. Nate paused for a moment, giving him a chance to push him away. When he didn't take it, Nate closed the distance, kissing him softly. He closed his eyes, letting Nate in as his heart skipped a beat and his mind raced. _He's kissing me. He's really kissing me. And I'm letting him._ Nate's lips were slightly rough from weathering, but he was gentle and took his sweet time in a way that had MacCready gasping into his mouth as the older man's fingers ran through the hair on the back of his neck. He pressed his body against Nate's, grasping at his shirt and returning the kiss to the best of his ability, loving the warmth of the redhead's body against his own, and the feeling of his stubble against his chin. He felt Nate's other hand against the small of his back, pulling him close. The older man wasn't being quite so gentle anymore, now that he knew MacCready was comfortable with this and eager for more. The merc felt teeth on his lip, biting playfully, and Nate's fingers slipping beneath the hem of his duster, brushing bare skin. He shivered a little at the contact, a flash of heat going through him. When Nate finally broke the kiss, MacCready found himself leaning forward into Nate's embrace, chasing the lost contact. There was a spark in Nate's eyes, similar in intensity to the one he often displayed before running headlong into battle. Without thinking, MacCready grabbed his wrist and pulled him in the direction of his bed, kicking off his shoes and laying back on it, practically begging Nate to join him. Wordlessly, Nate obliged, climbing on top of him. They kissed again, all heat and desire, kind of messy but at the same time perfectly coordinated. MacCready ran his hands over Nate's chest, tugging at the fabric.

"Off." He gasped between kisses. The older man understood what he wanted, leaning back so he was effectively straddling MacCready, and pulling the shirt over his head, tossing it aside carelessly. MacCready sat up so he could kiss Nate's shoulder, his fingers following the lines of his scars like they had done so many times in his dreams. He just... He wanted so badly to touch, to taste, to _feel_. Nate tilted his head back slightly, baring his throat for MacCready, who took the invitation, kissing the side of his neck, even daring to bite down gently, an action which elicited a gasp from Nate, and caused his whole body to tense slightly. Nate let him do this for a short while before he growled, taking charge again and pushing MacCready back down. He kissed him again roughly while his hand travelled down to the buttons on the other's jacket, struggling with them for a moment before managing to undo them. He seemed frustrated when he found a shirt beneath it, so MacCready pushed against his shoulder gently. Nate let him up, and he divested himself of both his jacket and his shirt. Nate's eyes glanced over him appreciatively before he was on him once again, kissing and touching and pulling all sorts of reactions from the man beneath him. MacCready had always been sensitive, pretty much all over, and so even the simplest touches; Nate's fingers on his hips, his lips on his collarbone and brushing the line of his throat, had him squirming beneath his lover's ministrations, getting increasingly worked up. He ran his fingers through Nate's hair, accidentally pulling some of it out of his ponytail. And when Nate's thumb brushed over his nipple, he gasped and his grip tightened, causing Nate to look up at him. When he saw that the younger man had pulled his hair out of pleasure rather than protest, he did it again, clearly taking pleasure in making MacCready squirm. MacCready let him do this for a while, simply enjoying the attention, but he was beginning to get a little impatient, and he pushed against Nate's shoulder, flipping them over so he was now the one straddling Nate, and he had the freedom to do as he liked with the older man. Remembering the reaction he got earlier, he nipped at the side of Nate's neck hard enough to leave marks, revelling in the little gasps and twitches he got in response. Nate pulled him back up to kiss him once more, and as he did so, MacCready ran a hand down, over his chest and stomach before he began toying with the waistband of Nate's slacks. Before he could do anything, though, a hand closed around his wrist, stopping him. MacCready broke the kiss, feeling confused and a little concerned.

"Stop." Nate's voice was breathy, and it sounded a little like saying this was physically painful, but he didn't let go.

" _What_?" MacCready asked, sounding a little more snappy than he'd intended.

"RJ... You're drunk."

"So?" Well, if that was all he was worried about... He leaned in to resume kissing him, but Nate pushed him away.

"How can you be sure you won't regret this tomorrow?"

"I won't!" MacCready didn't mean to sound so whiny, but he was so so horny and he _wanted_ Nate and Nate _wasn't being fair_ -

"I can't do this, okay?"

MacCready was silent for a moment, then he sat back, feeling more than a little hurt. "You don't want me?" He asked, hearing the incredulity in his own voice. "Wow. Okay." He moved to get off Nate, but Nate stopped him. "No! No, I didn't say that. I just... I want to be sure that you want me. That this isn't just the drink talking."

"But I _do_ want you."

"You have my solemn word that if you're still one hundred percent sure you want this when you're one hundred percent sober, I am yours to do with as you so desire. Alright?"

MacCready huffed, but nodded. He reluctantly climbed off Nate and sat on the edge of the bed, attempting to slip his feet back into his shoes when he felt a warm arm encircle his waist and pull him back down.

"Hey. Just because I said I won't fuck you tonight doesn't mean you have to leave." Nate was hugging him from behind, his chest pressed against MacCready's back. It was warm and comforting, and MacCready sighed as he relaxed into the embrace.

"So I can stay the night?"

"Damn right you can." Nate kissed the back of his neck, then let go so he could rid himself of his slacks. MacCready was a little reluctant to copy him, very aware of the effect that Nate's attentions had had on him, but he stripped off the rest of his clothes and curled up under the sheets in his underwear with Nate. Behind closed eyelids he saw the lights flick off, and then he felt warm arms around him once more. Before he settled down, Nate pressed one more kiss to MacCready's lips, then lay down beside him.

"Night, RJ."

"G'night."

As his exhaustion claimed him, he smiled to himself as he realised that after all those nights of drifting off to thoughts of these arms around him, and those lips kissing him, it had finally come true.

 

 


	9. Love in the Time of Deathclaws

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the first time in way too long, MacCready is truly, wonderfully happy. Could it perhaps have something to do with the gorgeous redhead in the bed beside him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my pwp chapter. I have nothing more to say about it. I hope you guys like it. 
> 
> Also I want to have a special s/o to cafunelester- everyone's feedback is important to me and I love you all, especially those who are repeatedly there in the comments section supporting me, but this is the first time I've ever had a number one fan and honestly when I read that it made me grin like a fucking idiot. So yeah. Love you too <3

It took MacCready a moment to realise where he was. His head hurt, and his mouth was dry. He knew he wasn't in the same bed as usual because it was bigger, and it smelled different. He half opened his eyes, wincing a little at the morning light, and then it registered. He heard soft breathing, not quite snoring behind him, and he rolled over to see Nate on his back, lips slightly parted and the covers not quite covering him. MacCready blinked, recalling the events of the previous evening, and felt a fluttering happiness in his chest. At some point between their making out and going to sleep, Nate had removed the band holding his hair out of his face, and it was currently all over the place, sticking up at odd angles and spread out on the pillow beneath his head. He remembered tangling his fingers in that hair, and kissing those lips, and he felt strange. Happy, but at the same time a little incredulous. He couldn't believe he'd actually done it. Told Nate how he felt. Sure, he hadn't been particularly eloquent about it and he'd probably been slightly more drunk than he'd thought, but he'd done it. And it seemed to have paid off.

Feeling brave, he reached out a hand and brushed the scar beneath Nate's eye with a fingertip. Nate didn't react except to twitch his nose slightly as MacCready's finger ran across the line that cut it in two. MacCready rested his palm on Nate's jaw, brushing his thumb across his cheek tenderly. He'd wanted to touch for what felt like so long, and now he could. He listened as the rhythm of Nate's breathing changed, becoming shallower, and watched as a small smile graced his lips before he opened his eyes, his expression slightly glazed as his mind clung to the last vestiges of sleep. His eyes focused on MacCready's, and he rolled onto his side, facing him.

"Morning." His smile became more pronounced as MacCready pulled his hand back. "It wasn't just a dream then. A beautiful, wonderful dream." He sighed happily. MacCready felt himself blush a little.

"No, I'm real. Sorry."

Nate chuckled. "Don't be." Then he leaned over. "May I?" MacCready nodded, and Nate kissed him, just a simple brush of lips on lips but enough to make another rush of happiness flood MacCready's system. Nate hummed softly as he ran his fingers through the hair at MacCready's temple, watching him with the fondness the merc was so familiar with in his eyes. MacCready closed his eyes, enjoying the sensation of the simple touch. He felt Nate's lips on his forehead, and he moved into Nate's embrace, resting his head beneath the other man's chin.

"This doesn't quite feel real, though." He murmured, tracing a pale, cross shaped mark just below Nate's collarbone.

"Mm. I know what you mean."

"Does this mean... Are we a thing now?" He felt Nate shift away from him slightly so he could look him in the eye.

"Do you want us to be a thing?"

"Well... Yeah. I guess so."

"You guess so? You don't sound very sure."

"Nate, I've been questioning myself for the past three weeks. Before you showed up I thought I was straight. I was pretty sure about it. So yeah, it kinda feels like being sure of something doesn't mean much any more."

Nate blinked. He seemed unsure of how to respond. MacCready sighed, trying to tone down the frustration that had been rising in his voice, unbidden. "Yes. I... I want you. I want us to be together. But that doesn't mean it doesn't scare the crap out of me, okay?"

Nate's expression softened. He smiled a little, then leaned in, kissing MacCready in a soft, gentle way. MacCready responded in kind, and when Nate pulled away, he could feel the other man's breath on his lips.

"There. That's not so scary, is it?"

MacCready gave his shoulder a gentle shove. "That's not what I mean." Nate chuckled.

"I know. But it's better to focus on the good stuff. And you know I'm here for you."

"Mmm." MacCready kissed him again, more sure of himself now. "I'm still mad at you for rejecting me last night, by the way."

"Oh come on, I was just being courteous. I had to make sure. And my promise still stands."

"Oh, it does, does it?" MacCready climbed on top of him, kissing and biting his shoulder and neck playfully. Nate laughed.

"Definitely. Though I might have to get something to eat first." He rolled over, easily pinning MacCready beneath him. "Then this," he trailed a fingertip down MacCready's chest, making him shiver slightly. "All mine." He leaned down to give his lover one more kiss, then got off him. MacCready watched him walk over to the cooler, appreciating the view. It was amazing really, he thought, how easily this all seemed to be going. He supposed it was the same playful teasing it had always been, just on a more genuine level. In all honesty, he felt kind of stupid. He'd been worrying about it for weeks and now it was done and it was as easy as breathing.

"Here." Nate threw a canister of purified water at him, which he almost missed. "Fix up the hangover I'm sure you have."

"I'm fine." MacCready replied. "I've had way worse."

"I bet." He rifled through his stocks as MacCready popped it open and took a drink. The water tasted sweet after the nasty taste left in his mouth from the vodka. "Do you know what I miss? Cereal. Not like these 200 year old sugar bombs. Proper cereal, with fresh milk and a little bit of sugar on top."

"Can't say I sympathise."

"And bacon. Damn, I miss bacon. Why aren't there any pigs in the Commonwealth?"

MacCready frowned. "I dunno. I assumed they all died out or something."

"Fuck. No more bacon. That's actually really sad." He pulled out a box of snack cakes and shrugged. "Once upon a time I would have considered cake for breakfast to be a really bad idea."

"Why?"

"Because of the sugar. Surefire way to get a cavity, or so I was taught."

MacCready was confused by this. "But aren't sugar bombs meant for breakfast? And they've got just as much sugar in them."

Nate returned to the bed, popping open the box and offering a cake to MacCready. He took it. "Mm. That's a good point, actually. I have to say, I still feel guilty about not brushing my teeth sometimes."

MacCready blinked. He didn't think he'd ever brushed his teeth once in his life. Then again, that probably explained how Nate's teeth were still so goddamned perfect when his were very _not_ perfect.

It didn't take long for them to polish off the box between them. After Nate put the empty box to one side and licked the sugar from his fingers, he settled down once more.

"Do you have any plans today?" MacCready asked.

"Not really, no. I want some time off before I go barrelling off on my next task."

"What is your next task, then?"

Nate grimaced. "Killing a Courser."

"A _what_?"

"Yeah. You heard me right. So basically the only way in and out of the Institute is by teleportation, right? And the only way to tune into the frequency the teleportation happens on is by using a Courser chip. Or something to that effect. And the only way to get ahold of a chip is to dig it out of the brain of a Courser."

"But... Where do you even find one? And once you do, how do you kill it? I've never met one, probably wouldn't be here if I had, but I've heard they're way stronger than your average human, smarter, faster and a lot harder to kill."

"Harder. Not impossible."

"No, but still!"

"Hey. Nothing's beaten me yet. Come close a couple times, but close isn't good enough."

MacCready gave him a concerned look. "Don't be arrogant. That'll get you killed as easily as weakness will."

Nate sighed. "I know, but it's the only option I have. I have to believe I can do it."

There was a brief silence. MacCready thought for a moment, then took Nate's hand. "We can. We'll just be careful about it, okay? I'm not losing you to some Institute drone."

Nate smiled, lacing his fingers with MacCready's. "Yeah."

MacCready rested his head on Nate's shoulder, and found himself running the fingers of his free hand over the long, ugly scars on Nate's shoulder. "You already have way too many of these."

"They're not exactly rare. I've seen a load of people with scars. World like this, it's difficult not to get them."

"Well yeah, but," MacCready sat up in front of Nate, holding his arms out. "Look at me. I've got a couple, sure, but nowhere near what you have. And I've lived in the wasteland my whole life. You? You've been living here what, six months? A year? You're reckless." He sighed, climbing on top of Nate so he faced him directly. "Alright. Tell me about some of them." He pointed at the cross on Nate's collar. "What about that one?"

"Switchblade. Raider tried to slit my throat. Came close, but didn't manage."

"Hm. What about these?" He ran his fingers over a series of circles that pockmarked his shoulder. Nate cleared his throat awkwardly.

"Submachine gun. While I was storming 114 to rescue Nick."

"Uh huh. Now you got that one on our first day together." MacCready's fingers traced over a nastily messy one on Nate's side. "Super mutants." His touch trailed further down, to a crescent of marks just above his hip.

"Actually, that wasn't long after I got out of the Vault. Pack of wild dogs." He held up his arm. "I got a matching one here." Sure enough, an almost identical mark decorated his forearm. MacCready gave him a look. He sighed. "Alright, I'm beginning to see your point. But my recklessness is part of who I am. These scars... Well, they're a part of me now." His hand unconsciously went to his nose. "They have to be."

"I'm not saying I don't like your scars. I just don't like what they mean. No one in their right mind _wants_ to get hurt this badly."

"You get used to it."

"That's my point. You shouldn't have to."

"Oh, stop worrying about me." Nate rolled over so he was lying between MacCready's legs, his weight warm and heavy on the younger man's front. Their faces were inches away, and Nate only stayed like that for a second before kissing him. His lips were still slightly sticky from the cakes, and they tasted sweet.

"You don't know how long I've wanted to be able to do that." He murmured when he broke the kiss.

"Mm. I have a vague idea." MacCready was beginning to feel a little flushed as he became aware of the extremely compromising position they were in. He could feel Nate's laugh, thanks to the closeness of their bodies, and it was beginning to stir up certain thoughts and desires. He pulled Nate down for another kiss, a much rougher one this time, deciding that it was better to act on such thoughts rather than try to hide them. If Nate was surprised, he didn't show it, responding eagerly to MacCready's advances. He shifted his body, causing MacCready to gasp a little beneath him. Nate broke the kiss only to focus his attentions just below MacCready's jaw. MacCready came very close to yelping out loud when he felt Nate bite down on the spot. It hurt, but it was a good kind of pain. His lover was very thorough, and he was sure that when Nate pulled away he would have a very impressive hickey to show for it. He shifted again, moving so that he could touch MacCready, running his hand over the other man's bare chest. His fingers found MacCready's nipple and began drawing little circles around it, teasing him. This made the younger man gasp and press himself to Nate's body. He could feel Nate's arousal and suddenly he was nervous again, fear fluttering in his stomach.

"Nate?" He asked in a breathy, uneven voice. The older man glanced up at him. "Be gentle." Nate's expression held for a moment, then broke into a soft smile. He nodded before kissing him again. When MacCready felt Nate's hand dip lower, over the flat planes of his stomach to rest over boxers which were quickly becoming uncomfortably tight, he gasped into Nate's mouth. Nate _was_ being gentle, his touch barely there but enough to send a flash of heat through MacCready's body. He broke the kiss, looking down at his flustered lover.

"I take it you've never done this before, then." His voice was barely a murmur as he continued to rub MacCready through the fabric of his boxers.

"Uh, no. Never." Nate hummed in response, sounding pleased. MacCready wondered if he was happy that he got to effectively take his virginity. "Have you?"

"A couple times. More often than not I'm the one on top, though I have received, too."

"O...Oh." Nate's touch was very pleasant, and very distracting. When he stopped, climbing off MacCready, the younger man protested. "Hey! Come back."

"I gotta get something. While I do, I want those off." He pointed at MacCready's underwear, then rolled over so he could open a drawer by the bed and rummage through it. MacCready pulled off his underwear, suddenly feeling exposed and a little embarrassed. He knew it was ridiculous, but something about laying back on _Nate's_ bed, stark naked and aroused, felt... well, not quite wrong, but definitely dirty. He closed his legs in a weak attempt to preserve some modesty.

"Aha." Nate closed the drawer and turned back to him, and MacCready didn't miss the appreciative glance over his body- the _entirety_ of his body- that the older man gave him. He held up a little bottle. "Knew it would come in useful."

MacCready gave a short laugh. "You think everything's gonna come in useful."

"Yes, but this in particular. Unfortunately, condoms seem to be in short supply." He gave MacCready an apologetic look. "Is that a problem?"

"Well, I mean, it's not like you're gonna get me pregnant, is it?" He gave Nate a nervous smile. Nate laughed.

"I suppose you're right. And I know I'm clean."

"That's, uh, that's good." MacCready frowned for a moment. "I think I'm good. Last time I went to see a doctor I was fine and I haven't slept with anyone since then."

"Excellent. Now that the boring stuff's out of the way..." He ran a hand up MacCready's thigh, wordlessly encouraging him to spread his legs once more. The merc obliged, though he could feel himself blushing as he did so. Nate divested himself of his own underwear, allowing MacCready to see all of him, too. Strangely enough, the first thought that went through his head was _Huh. So the carpet does match the drapes._ He smirked a little at this. Nate raised an eyebrow at him.

"Sorry. Sorry, it's just..." He trailed off. "Never mind."

Nate leaned over him, his hands either side of MacCready's head. "Tell me."

"I guess I didn't expect you to be red down there, too." He realised how stupid he sounded the moment he said it. Nate looked confused for a moment, then laughed.

"What else would I be?"

"I don't know." His face was burning as Nate laughed. "Just shut up and screw me, alright?"

"Your wish is my command." And then Nate's hand was on his cock, and he gasped at the sudden flash of pleasure.

"C- _Christ_ , Nate..." he bit back a moan as long fingers curled around his erection, making his muscles tense and his skin prickle with sweat. He'd forgotten how different it felt when someone else did it. How much more intense. Nate stroked him slowly, and he found himself moving with Nate's hand, trying to get more of that desperately wonderful feeling. Nate was watching him closely, and MacCready did feel a little self conscious under his gaze, but the feeling was just too good for him to worry about it. Before too long, his lover changed tactics, his hand moving to cup his balls. It still felt good, but it did leave his erection feeling sorely neglected. He bucked slightly, wanting friction.

"I'm gonna need you to relax, okay?" Nate murmured, and then all the touch was gone, and MacCready heard a soft click as the cap of the little bottle was flicked open. The merc nodded, and took a deep breath, making a conscious effort to relax every muscle in his body. That effort went out of the window as, after a soft kiss, he felt something cool and slick just behind his balls.

_God, this... this is really happening._ He thought to himself as he felt the tip of Nate's finger rubbing against that sensitive patch of skin, down to that part of him that no one had touched before. He could feel it pressing up against his entrance, just barely pushing inside, and the sensation made him tense up in pleasure- not quite physical pleasure, more the _idea_ of it. An eager shadow of what was to come. He felt Nate's lips against the skin just below his ear, and Nate's voice was low when he reminded MacCready to _just relax_. The breath that MacCready let out as Nate pushed the tip of his finger in- just the tip- was shuddery and uneven. And yet... he had expected pain. And it didn't hurt. The slickness of the lube meant it was almost easy. Nate paused for a moment, then pushed further, and this time there was resistance. Not much, just enough to have MacCready's body tensing once more, suddenly aware of muscles he'd never been aware of before twitching around Nate's finger. When he felt the knuckles of Nate's hand pressing against his skin he knew that Nate's whole finger was inside him and that thought sent a spike of arousal through him. Nate paused, looking down at him.

"You okay?"

MacCready assessed his condition. It didn't hurt beyond a very faint stretch, nowhere near what he was expecting, and so he nodded.

"How does it feel?"

It felt... weird. Good, but strange. He pushed back against Nate's hand and found that he wanted _more_. "Feels good." He breathed, "Do... do more. I want..." his breath hitched as Nate curled his finger inside him, stroking his insides. " _Oh_." The sensation was indescribably strange. The muscles in his lower back seized up, the little circles Nate was drawing causing a flash of heat that made the surface of his skin feel cold. He gasped. "That... that feels... _really_ good..." Nate hummed again, that strange low noise of pleasure he made in the back of his throat, and then retracted his finger. MacCready was about to complain when he felt a second finger pushing in alongside the first. And this time there was more stretch, enough to cause a slight burn to accompany it. He tensed, his breath leaving him, and Nate stopped. His fingers stilled, and his expression was concerned.

"Don't... don't stop." MacCready almost whined.

"Does it hurt?" Nate asked, his voice soft, heady. MacCready shook his head.

"'S not... not _enough_." And it was true. One finger had been... nothing, really. Just a sensation. It hadn't been enough to stretch him, just enough to show him how good it could feel. But this... this was more. And it made him want more. "Please..."

Nate gave him what he wanted, pushing both fingers in as deep as he could. Nate's body was hot against his, and he could feel the older man's breath on his cheek, and the combination of the sensation and the stretch that was just enough to have him gasping and gritting his teeth but not enough- not _quite_ enough to pull a moan from him. It was slowly but surely driving him crazy. Nate moved, his fingers curling and separating and sliding against each other and him, and MacCready couldn't help but move with him, his toes curling. He wanted Nate's fingers deeper, wanted that phantom pleasure that was chasing up his spine to be made real. He pulled him in for another kiss, at first just catching the corner of Nate's mouth before Nate got the idea and kissed back, his fingers still twisting and pushing inside him. When MacCready felt a third finger pushing against his entrance, he did moan, his muscles tight around the intruders, the burn intensifying. It was sore, but in a good way, satisfying the desire for more, at least in that sense. This time, Nate didn't curl his fingers or anything like that, he slid them in and out in a slow and deliberate rhythm. Each time, MacCready half expected them to go a little further. Just a little bit more, to satisfy that edge too. But they didn't, and it was endlessly frustrating.

"RJ?" Nate asked, without stopping his ministrations.

"Wh... what?"

"I think... Do you think you're ready?" Nate's voice was uneven too, not in the same breathless way as MacCready's, but in a way that made him sound like he was pushing his own self control, a kind of rough hoarseness laden with lust. His tone alone sent a shiver through MacCready, as it put pictures in his head of what Nate would do if he let go of that control.

"Yes. _Yes_ , oh God just... _do it_."

Despite the fact that he had been the one to give the order, he almost screamed in frustration when Nate pulled out his fingers, leaving him open and empty and _wanting_. It was only then that he registered how much his muscles _burned_. His thighs hurt from holding his position for so long, his back hurt from the tension that had crept into his position and _oh_ \- his insides burned, too. Ten times worse than they had with Nate's fingers inside him.

" _Nate_..." He gasped, taking in the sight of the man before him. The redhead was sat back to allow both hands free, and had poured a fair amount of lube into his palm. He was stroking himself, his eyes meeting MacCready's, lips wet from kissing and slightly parted as he panted. His hair, loose from its usual ponytail, hung down around his face, threatening to fall over his eyes. Oh, it was a beautiful sight. "Nate _please_."

"One... One moment." His cheeks were flushed pink as he leaned over MacCready once more, pressing a kiss to his lips, then his cheek, his stubble scratching MacCready's skin. He was within touching distance now, and MacCready took advantage of that, his fingers tangling in Nate's hair and clawing at his shoulder. He felt the brush of something slick against his ass, the shudder that ran through Nate's body at the contact. His muscles twitched, waiting to be stretched open once more. "God, RJ. I can't... you're really letting me do this..."

"Yeah. I am." MacCready replied, scarcely believing it himself. He felt the head of Nate's cock pressing against his entrance, that alone enough to force a shaky breath out of him, promising to satiate the burning emptiness his fingers had left behind.

"You... you talk to me, okay?" Nate's voice almost cracked as he spoke, and MacCready felt a shiver of pride go through him as he realised Nate was this wound up because of him. "Tell me... tell me how it feels."

"It feels..." He struggled to find the words. "Nate, it _hurts_ , how much I want it..." Nate kissed him roughly in response to this, like he'd been waiting for an excuse to do so. Then he pushed himself forward, just a little. Just barely stretching him out. " _Nate_. Oh, I... I need... Nate I need _more_..." His nails dug into Nate's back, and he bucked his hips ever so slightly. His cock was hard against Nate's stomach, and the motion caused just a touch of friction, a vague jolt of pleasure. He bit down on his lip to stop a whimper. "Just f- _Oh_ , just-" his thoughts wouldn't work right, and he was failing to find a substitute for what he wanted to say.

" _Say it_." Nate breathed, his voice heady with desire.

"Just _fuck_ _me_."

And he swore to God Nate growled like an animal as he finally gave MacCready what he wanted. MacCready's train of thought ground to a halt, he felt lightheaded and all that mattered was the _feeling_. The yawning ache being filled and the hot, potent flash of masochistic pleasure that caused him to drag his nails over Nate's skin, unable to tell whether it was his hands or Nate's back that was slick with sweat. Maybe both. His breath was coming in short pants, not quite enough oxygen getting to his brain. Nate was muttering in his ear, incoherent words of praise and desire.

"So... so good... RJ... you feel... _yes_..." He moaned as he pushed himself in, an unbridled sound of lust that was music to his lover's ears. When he felt the press of Nate's hips against his ass, his eyes fluttered closed and he lost himself in feeling. Nate had stilled, giving him time to get used to the feeling, and MacCready could feel their bodies pressed together in such an intimate way that he couldn't tell where he stopped and Nate began. Their chests against one another, their out-of-sync breathing causing sweat-slick skin to meet and separate and meet again. Nate's breath, hot and wet on the side of his neck. He swallowed, his lips and tongue the only part of him that was dry as he panted.

"Can I...?" Nate asked, polite as ever even through the ragged, aching desire that permeated his voice. MacCready shifted, able to feel every twinge of muscle and slick movement inside him as he did so. He nodded, and Nate, seeming just as tense as MacCready, changed position ever so slightly to give himself more leverage. Even that tiny motion was enough to have MacCready press his head back onto the pillow, mouth open in a half-gasp. He wanted to wrap his legs around Nate, to pull him closer, deeper. But he also wanted Nate to _move_ _already_ -

He did. He rolled his hips in a slow, languid motion that wasn't quite a thrust, but that allowed MacCready to feel every last inch of Nate's length, and every imperfection that came with it. "Oh _sh_ -" he choked back the swear, even though he knew there was little left for him to salvage now.

"That... that's good for you?" Nate asked, and MacCready nodded, eager to get him moving again, to really properly feel what he could do. Nate did it again, a smooth roll of his hips out of MacCready and then a snap back in again. He raised himself up ever so slightly so he was once more face to face with his lover, futilely trying to brush his hair out of his face only for it to fall stubbornly back into place. He held his gaze as he slid into a rhythm, still going slow and gentle, but allowing himself a little more rein, a greater movement. His breath fluttered from his chest, bringing light grunts of pleasure with it. And even now, even through the haze of lust in his eyes MacCready could see that same soft fondness in his expression, the same care. His heart stuttered in his chest, already beating hard and fast and now feeling warm, and in that moment he knew he really had fallen in love. His hand moved to Nate's cheek almost unconsciously, and although it was clumsy, his hand shaking from the experience and Nate's motion making it difficult to do it properly, Nate tilted his head into his touch, closing his eyes for a moment and displaying wordlessly just how much of his love was returned.

"You... You okay?"

MacCready almost laughed at the idea that he could _not_ be okay, and he felt himself grinning like an idiot as he responded. "Yeah. Yeah I'm-" he was cut off as Nate thrust into him just a touch harder than before, and a tongue of fire went up his spine. " _Ah_ -" his body jerked, and Nate hissed as his nails dug in deeper. "So- sorry-" MacCready managed to spit out, "I- something-" he went taut as it happened again, his hips bucking up into Nate's thrusts as his eyes went wide. "O- _Oh_..." He let out a breath as the sudden fire, the sudden tightness in his stomach faded. "What did- is that _normal_?" His voice was more high pitched than usual, and that might have made him blush, if he wasn't so focused on other things. He felt more than heard Nate's laugh.

"Hold- hold on. It... _Hah_... it gets better..." MacCready shifted, trying to get that feeling, that sheer _intensity_ to come back. "Do it... do it again..." He pleaded, "Give me _more_ -" Even now, even with Nate buried inside him and the glorious, delicious stretch each time he pushed back in sending his head into waves of beautiful giddiness, he needed something more. He wasn't sure what it was that had done that, but he was getting restless, and he pushed back against Nate, his muscles clenching slightly and sending little shocks of pain jolting through the pleasure. Nate seemed to grow more sure of himself, or more sure of MacCready, and his movements gained power. MacCready could hear his heavy breathing, see the shaking of his arms as he held himself up above his lover. He could see the muscles in Nate's arms and torso shifting and flexing under his skin, and the sheen of sweat on his flushed skin. He pulled him down into a kiss that was all teeth and tongue, and as he did so something about Nate's position changed and _oh_ , there it was. That fire had returned, sending almost unbearable hot flashes through him, causing his back to arch off the bed and his breath to leave him all in one go.

"Ah- _haah_ \- oh, Nate, Nate, please don't- don't _stop_ -" he moaned, the pleasure in his stomach building, making his thighs tense around Nate and his heart race. "I don't know- I don't know _what_ you're doing but- right- _yes_ \- oh, right there-"

" _Shit_ , RJ..." Nate said from between gritted teeth, "You... You feel so good..." He thrusted in again, hard, and the motion sent actual pins and needles through his body, like Nate had hit a raw bundle of nerves. He cried out, unable to help himself. He swore he could feel a slickness between them, a hot stream of precome from his aching cock, begging to be touched. Until now, he had felt good. That nice, steady level of pleasurable that was pleasant but that wasn't really going anywhere. Now, though, he was on the edge of desperate, the tension in the pit of his stomach _just this side_ of unbearable as he felt he was dangling off the edge of... of _something_. And somehow it didn't feel the same as it normally did. It was... it was _more_. It spread through the whole of his lower body, the burning tension seeming to be alive in every nerve he had. His head hung back on the pillow, exposing the long lines of his throat to Nate's attentions, his mouth hanging open and dragging breaths into his tight chest. "Ah... Ah, _fu_ -" he stumbled over the word, barely finding enough brainpower to stop himself. "Nate... Are- are you-" his body jerked again, his hips bucking against Nate hard without his direction. He moaned aloud, feeling simultaneously weightless and trapped in his own body. "I'm... Oh, _Nate_..." Nate's whole body shuddered, the movement of his hips stuttering a little, dragging a deep, throaty moan from the older man's chest. MacCready's fingers pressed into his shoulders, trying to pull Nate closer, _closer_ , so he could feel the complete and utter _wreck_ that was his heart trying and failing to beat with a rhythm that matched Nate's movements, so he could know exactly what he was doing to MacCready, and share the intensity of his pleasure. He felt Nate's arm hook around his leg and pull him up into a position that made his muscles _scream_ , but that meant he was no longer just hitting that- that _whatever it was_ , but was _dragging_ over it, making his nerves _sing_. He heard his own voice as though from a distance as he cried out Nate's name. He wanted to touch himself, knowing that if he did so he would come undone in seconds, but he didn't. There was something utterly magical about what Nate was doing to him, about the slow build of pressure that had him writhing and moaning, his thoughts and his body a shuddering, incoherent mess.

"You...?" Nate's voice was shaking, barely there. "You're gonna...?"

" _Yes_." MacCready responded, somehow understanding exactly what he meant despite the ambiguity of the half-formed question.

"Oh, _fuck_ , RJ..." Nate breathed, "I can't... gonna have to slow down if you don't-"

"Don't you _fucking dare_." And there it was, and somehow saying it aloud made it feel so, so much dirtier. It paid off. Nate redoubled his efforts, the head of his cock dragging over that spot, causing an almost endless stream of pleasure to burn at MacCready's nerves and he was _right there_ , the tension inside him reaching that delicious, all-consuming peak that he wished would last forever, and he heard Nate's voice, hoarse with desire, whisper those three words that cut the string tying him to this world.

" _Come for me_."

And he did. Pleasure flushed his mind, washing away coherent thought as his every muscle tightened and he felt weightless. Part of his brain registered that Nate had been pulled deeper inside him, but it wasn't until afterwards that he realised it was because he had wrapped his legs around Nate, dragging him closer. Then as fast as it came on, it was gone, leaving him panting and gasping and twitching in its wake. He felt almost like he'd just surfaced from being underwater for too long, the way his lungs were fighting to return his breathing rate to normal. He could feel his heart hammering in his chest, like he'd just been sprinting for dear life, and indeed his entire body seemed to be fighting soreness and exhaustion in much the same way. Nate was still fucking into him, making his body seize up from the overstimulation, but he didn't last much longer. MacCready threaded his fingers gently through Nate's hair as the older man tensed, moaning MacCready's name and burying himself as deep in MacCready as he could before he came. The hot, wet sensation deep inside him made him shiver in pleasure once more, and he pulled Nate into a sloppy kiss, both of them too addled by pleasure and the hazy delirium of afterglow to be any kind of coordinated.

"Jesus Christ, I love you." Nate whispered against MacCready's lips, and the warm glow in MacCready's chest intensified.

"I... I love you too."

MacCready let out a small noise of protest as Nate pulled out of him, leaving behind that too cool, wet emptiness. But then he was curling up on top of MacCready, his head resting on the merc's shoulder and his loose hair tickling the other's neck. His weight was warm and comforting as their legs tangled together, and he closed his eyes to enjoy the bliss. That was, until he realised the gross stickiness that covered both their fronts. He coughed, feeling a little embarrassed.

"Uh, Nate? Shouldn't we... you know, clean up a bit?"

Nate made a noise of malcontent, burying his face in the crook of MacCready's neck. He stayed like that for a moment, then reluctantly pushed himself up. "Fine, fine." He retrieved a rag they could use to wipe the worst of it off, and then collapsed back on top of MacCready as soon as he deemed them clean enough, earning himself a huff of lost breath and a small, fond laugh. They found themselves tired again, and were just on the edge of falling asleep when a sharp rapping on the door pulled them out of it.

"Oi!" Cait's voice broke their reverie, sounding both annoyed and amused. "Are you two done fuckin' in there? We want breakfast!"

MacCready groaned, his face flaming, and Nate laughed, calling back, "Give us a minute!" He grinned at MacCready's embarrassment, kissing his forehead gently. "Come on. We should get dressed. You gonna be alright?"

"I'll be fine. Though you know she's gonna be badgering us for details all day, right?"

"I know. I'm prepared to deal with questions." He pushed himself off MacCready and began looking for fresh clothes to pull on. MacCready sighed, just laying there for a moment longer, then attempted to copy him. Almost immediately, every muscle in his lower body seized up, causing him to gasp and wince. Nate glanced over as he zipped up his jeans.

"Christ, Nate. What did you do to me?"

"Oh. Yeah. That happens. And it's probably gonna get worse before it gets better, I'm afraid."

"Right. No sex before missions. Got it." He pushed himself up, doing his best to ignore the soreness, and got dressed. Nate didn't bother with a shirt, going to open the door as soon as both he and MacCready had all the important stuff covered. He leaned on the door frame, smirking at Cait, who was perched on the railing wasting for them.

"You took your time, didn't ya?" She pushed herself off the balcony and strode past them to get to the food. "Jesus. It reeks in here." MacCready frowned and sniffed. Only then did he notice the rather strong smell of sex that hung in the air. He felt himself blush, and he went to stand by Nate as she helped herself to food. As she left, she stopped, surveying the two of them. "So I take it you two are officially together then." Her eyes met MacCready's, and she grinned. He gave her a look that said _don't say I told you so_ , and then twined his fingers with Nate's.

"Yeah. I guess we are."

 


	10. The Calm Before the Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was never going to be a secret for long, let's face it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delay on this one folks, it's a very hectic time right now what with university applications and all that jazz.  
> Also, I'd like to take this opportunity to ask if there are any quests you guys would like to see the boys take on. Obviously I have a plan for the main quest line but other stuff, like the Silver Shroud thing, Ironsides etc. I'm not sure about. So let me know what you want to read! (Bearing in mind I haven't actually played through the DLC yet- shut up- so that might be difficult).  
> One last thing- we'be broken 100 kudos and 1000 hits!! Thank you to all, this is now my most popular story by a pretty decent amount. I hope you guys will continue to read and enjoy.

According to Cait, everyone already knew. MacCready accused her of telling everyone, but when he had she just laughed and told him she didn't need to; they heard it all for themselves. At this news, MacCready had wanted to bury himself in a pit to avoid speaking to any of them ever again, and indeed he got far more than what he considered his fair share of snide comments and offhanded, mocking compliments on the painfully obvious bruise Nate had left on the side of his throat. Nate wasn't helping either, walking around minus his shirt, showing off the vicious scratches that littered his back like some kind of trophies. He couldn't quite believe he'd been responsible for those; he could remember grasping at Nate's back, and yes, he had dug his fingernails in once or twice, but to that extent? He'd even broken the skin in a few places, despite the fact that his nails were far from long or sharp. Then again, he did feel some slight satisfaction that he'd done something to Nate, considering the amount of effort he had to put into not limping around the place, Nate's prophecy having come true as the soreness that afflicted the entirety of his lower body only got worse as the day progressed.

He also discovered that as bad as Nate had been in terms of flirting before, now that he had permission to openly display his affection, he was a thousand times worse. Not that MacCready had a problem with the offhand kisses, the looks and the casual touches, but still. It was going to take some getting used to.

Despite the fact that Nate had said they would have a quiet day off from the usual, the redhead spent a fair amount of time putting together a plan for his next insane mission. As it turned out, he didn't actually know exactly where to find a Courser, but he had been told he could track one using his pipboy. Because of his lack of knowledge, he wasn't entirely sure what to plan for, so he spent most of his time fixing up his armour and weaponry, and cooking up medical supplies.

"Is that sanitary?" MacCready found himself asking as he watched Nate mixing up ingredients in a glass vial, including a fair amount of what looked like blood. He fed the mixture into a syringe and capped it, then added it to a steadily growing pile beside him.

"Apparently. It's not the first time I've used homemade stimpaks and they worked fine last time."

"Um... Do I want to know where you got the- that is blood right?- from?"

"Hospital. Don't worry, I haven't been draining random raiders or sticking myself full of needles. Uh, not the kind that take stuff out of you anyway."

MacCready blinked, then wrinkled his nose. "You're telling me you've been jabbing yourself full of two hundred year old blood?"

"Well when you say it out loud like that it sounds like a horrible idea." He smirked. "Trust me, it works. I don't know how but it's still viable. And mixed with antiseptic. A lot of it. So I won't be catching any diseases."

"Well, alright. If you say so." He picked up one of the syringes, inspecting it. It was probably a good thing he couldn't see the liquid inside. "It's still gross."

"Yeah, well, if you've got a knife stuck in your shoulder or you've taken a few too many bullets anything that will keep you on your feet is good enough."

MacCready gave him an unimpressed look. "I thought we'd been over the whole you being reckless thing."

Nate took the needle off him and put it with the others, taking his hands and pulling him close. "Unfortunately, I think it's just an occupational hazard. And the more healing supplies I have the better off I'll be, yeah? I don't plan on meeting the grim reaper any time soon."

MacCready looked up at him, at his bright, vivacious eyes, the slight flush high on his cheeks and the faint smile on his lips. "I don't know. Some people might say Coursers and the grim reaper are pretty much the same thing."

Nate smirked again, putting his hands on MacCready's waist and pulling him close. "Your faith in my combat skills is very affirming."

"You don't need affirming." His concentration wavered as Nate leaned down, his stubble scratching MacCready's cheek as he kissed his neck. "You're... arrogant enough already."

"I'm arrogant for a reason." He pressed his lips to the angry looking bruise he'd left earlier in the day.

" _Nate_." MacCready grumbled. "That's not the point."

"It's true though." He backed MacCready up against the side of the house behind him, pinning him there and leaning in to kiss him properly. MacCready closed his eyes, letting Nate dominate the kiss. His hands were on MacCready's waist, his leg pressing between the merc's own. The younger man tangled his fingers in his lover's hair, and was beginning to get just a little turned on when a deep, husky voice interrupted them.

"Well, whaddaya know? I come up here to get some jet and I find myself a free porn show."

Nate broke the kiss, holding MacCready's gaze just a moment longer before stepping back, chuckling. MacCready rested his head back on the wall behind him, groaning.

"Hancock, you have the worst timing."

"I would say I'm sorry, but I'm not."

"Eh, could be worse. Five minutes later and you could have caught me on my knees." Nate smirked at MacCready, who blushed furiously.

"In _public_?"

The redhead leaned over him, his arm against the wall by his head. "Come on, this is hardly in public."

"Speak for yourself." Hancock pushed past them to get at the chem station. "Not that I'd object to the show."

"Nope. Not happening." MacCready pushed Nate away, feeling intensely uncomfortable at the thought.

"Well, I suppose we can check exhibitionism off the list then." Nate commented. Hancock laughed.

"What list?!"

"Try tying him up. That one usually works."

"Wait _what_?"

"Aw, we're only teasing." Nate kissed his cheek softly, only to lean into his ear and mutter, "We can figure out what you're into in our own time."

MacCready was speechless, not entirely sure of how to respond to that. After all, he'd only slept with the guy _once_. So far, anyway. Nate didn't wait for a response, simply winking at him and then gathering his supplies and carrying them off to pack them away somewhere.

"You're lucky to have him. You know that right?" Hancock commented, holding up a flask of clear liquid and adding some white powder to it. It bubbled a little before returning to its original appearance. Momentarily distracted, it took MacCready a moment to register what Hancock had said.

"What?"

"Someone who cares about you like that. You're lucky to have one."

"We've only really been together for a day."

"Really?" Hancock sounded faintly amused. "The way he talked about you, I assumed you must already have been a thing."

"He talked about me?"

"Oh yeah. A lot."

"What did he say?" MacCready asked before he could help himself. Hancock laughed.

"Don't worry, he seems to like ya. Told me how he felt a little bit bad for leaving you behind."

MacCready thought about the long hours waiting for him, the sleepless nights and endless worry. "Good."

"Aw, cut the guy some slack. You'd have made yourself sick trailing around the Glowing Sea." He considered MacCready for a second. "I wonder what you'd look like as a ghoul."

"I don't think so. Not something I see in my future."

"Mmm. Then it's for the best that you stay out of that place."

"Well, it's done now."

"Actually, Nate promised that Virgil guy he'd get something for him from the Institute, so chances are he'll go back at some point."

"Oh." MacCready felt a twinge of... fear? Disappointment? He knew he didn't want to go through all that worry again.

"Listen, kid." MacCready glared at him for the name. "He's a man on a mission. I see it in his eyes. He's gonna go running off into places you can't follow him and you're gonna watch him go and hate him for it. But at the end of the day he'll come back to you. He cares about you too much to leave you behind for long. But this thing he's got going, this mission, he's never gonna be satisfied unless he finds a resolution. Whether that means he finds his son, or just finds out what happened to his son doesn't matter. So just support him, yeah? Don't take it to heart." Hancock turned back to his work. "Just something to think about."

And he did. He thought about Nate leaving him behind to go on life threatening missions chasing a lead that seemed ever more elusive. It didn't sit well with him. A part of him, quite a loud and insistent part, wanted to just settle down. Now that he had someone to fill the hole that Lucy had left behind, they could go get Duncan, come back and just live comfortably. No more selling himself for caps, scraping together what little he could find, putting his life on the line for the barest sliver of hope. But he also knew that that was a selfish desire, and whilst he might be happy with that, Nate would not be. He would be restless. Not for the first time, MacCready wondered what his life was like before the bombs fell. There was no way Nate sat in his house playing happy homemaker. The more MacCready got to know him, the more he realised that here was a man who wanted to make a difference. To take risks and watch them pay off. Not just in the literal sense, but in a much wider one too. And he'd have to come to terms with that. That he _would_ watch Nate run off without him, and he would fear for him. A lot. And that was just going to be part of their relationship. In all honesty, MacCready wasn't sure how he would be able to deal with that, but it was clear that he wouldn't be able to talk Nate out of it, so he guessed he'd just roll with the punches for as long as he could. He knew that Nate was the best thing to happen to him since Duncan had been born, and that was worth all the pain he'd been through so far, so this would be something he could work with. It had to be.

 

Later in the day, Cait approached him, asking if he was still up for their little combat practice sessions.

"Sure. I reckon I've been getting better."

"Ah, but you've got a ways to go yet." Cait grinned at him. "Come on then."

"Right now?" MacCready shifted his weight from one leg to the other, feeling the slight twinge of his muscles protesting. "Uh, maybe not today."

"What, can't fight with a sore arse?" She laughed. "When you're in a proper fist fight you gotta keep goin' even if both yer legs are broken, otherwise you get a fist in the face at best and a knife between your ribs at worst."

MacCready glared at her. "Fine."

 

"So." The pair of them were in their usual spot, out the back of Covenant, and Cait sat on a fallen tree as she taped her knuckles, then handed MacCready the bandages. "How bad is it?"

"What?"

She gave him a look. "You know what. I saw the marks you left on him."

"Yeah. Everyone did." MacCready stated a little sourly. Cait smirked.

"So you can't be much better."

"Nope. You were right." He grimaced. "I feel like every muscle from the waist down has been beaten with a freaking baseball bat."

"I bet." She got to her feet, stretching her arms above her head. "I get the feeling he's pretty gifted too, am I right?"

"What?" He asked, confused, then it clicked, and he felt himself blush just a little. "Oh. I... Yeah, I suppose so. Though my experiences are kinda limited."

"What are we talkin' here? Six inches? Seven? Anything more than that and I call bullshit."

MacCready's eyes widened slightly, and he stuttered, "I, uh, I don't think Nate would appreciate me sharing that information."

"I'm pretty Nate wouldn't give a fuck." She commented wryly. And goddamn it, she was probably right. She noted the look on MacCready's face, and laughed. "Alright, fine. You don't have to tell me. Least I didn't ask after yours, right?"

MacCready wasn't sure what to say to that, so instead he stood facing her, getting into a fighting stance.

The fight went, all things considered, quite well. He found that, although it wasn't pleasant, the pain in his muscles dulled after a while, becoming more background noise than anything else. He was still agile and light on his feet, an attribute which was very much to his advantage against the brute force style Cait was employing against him. She did manage to get him on the ground several times, but he was quickly back on his feet. Every now and then, Cait would stop the fight to point out a mistake he made, to correct his stance or teach him a new move. They were working up quite a sweat, and MacCready discarded the shirt he was wearing, noting it was filthy after rolling around in the dirt so much. He still had bruises from their previous sessions, and Cait was only too happy to add to them. Still, he landed a decent few hits, and both of them were more than a little out of breath before too long. He was dodging a series of punches she was throwing at him when he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. Momentarily distracted, he left himself open to a hit, and as he was reeling from the strike to his jaw, Cait swept his feet out from under him and he landed hard on the ground. With the wind knocked out of him, he simply lay on his back gasping as she leapt on top of him, pinning his arms with her legs and pressing her hand lightly to his throat.

"You're dead." She stated, grinning. He glared at her before shifting so he could see what it was that had distracted him. Nate was leaning against a tree, watching them with an amused expression on his face. He caught MacCready's eye and the merc saw him snicker. He frowned, disgruntled, and pushed Cait off him as he stood up, brushing himself down.

"Never take your eyes off your opponent." She told him. "Even if there's eye candy in the vicinity."

"Shut up." He glowered at her.

"I was told I might find you here. Is this a regular thing?" Nate approached the pair of them.

"She's been teaching me how to fight up close."

"Ah. I see." His gaze flitted over MacCready's body. "I should come watch more often."

"Fuckin' gay idiots." Cait commented without a hint of malice. "Can't you spend more than five minutes away from him?" She smirked at Nate, who returned the look.

"Not if I can help it." He responded. "Actually, though, I do have something practical to ask. I need to see if I fixed up the armour right. If you're coming with me I want you to be properly kitted out."

"What, you're gonna make me leave my favourite jacket behind?"

"Somehow I don't think it's gonna help you much against a Courser. If these guys are as dangerous as people say they are I'm not taking any chances."

MacCready sighed, but conceded the point. "That's fair."

He followed Nate back into the settlement, unwrapping the bandages from his bruised knuckles.

"Now, I've got some stuff that's nicely reinforced, but I need to see if any of it fits you." The redhead said as he rummaged through his collection. "Here. Try this on. I fixed it up earlier today." He held out a combat armour chest piece. MacCready took it, and saw that beneath the dirt and scratches is was a too familiar shade of green.

"You want me to wear Gunner armour?"

"What?" Nate looked up from where he was pulling out matching pieces to cover MacCready's limbs. "I mean, it's just stuff I took off people we've killed. I don't really pay much attention to what it looks like."

"Yeah, but..." The merc held up the chestplate, examining it. It would definitely keep the bullets off him, that was for sure. And it did show signs of being tinkered with, an extra layer of plate here, a strip of insulation there. "Never mind. I'm being stupid." He put his shirt back on, then slipped the armour over the top. He was a little aggrieved to be reminded of how skinny he was, as he had to tighten the buckles at his sides, but the weight of the straps at his shoulders was familiar and comforting.

"Is it good? I can adjust it for you if it needs it."

"No, I think it's alright." He looked down at himself, at the white star emblazoned on his chest, and fought back a stab of guilt. Last time he'd worn armour like this...

"Do you want to try on the rest? Let me know if there's anything I can do to make it better?"

"No, it's... it's okay. I trust you know what you're doing." Nate nodded, laying the rest of the armour to one side. MacCready unbuckled the chestplate, putting it with the rest.

"You alright there?" Nate looked up. "You look like something's troubling you."

"Nah, it's just..." he gestured at the pile of armour. "Bad memories."

"Mm. I know what you mean." Nate said in a low, quiet tone of voice. MacCready felt a frown flicker across his face.

"What's that supposed to mean?" He asked, sounding more accusatory than he'd meant to.

Nate turned to him. "I... Well, I was a soldier, before all this happened." He gestured around himself. "Let's just say I've done some things I'm not proud of."

"A soldier? How come you were at home when the bombs fell? With a kid?"

"Officially? I was discharged following a breach of the, ah, code of conduct."

MacCready raised an eyebrow. "And... unofficially?"

Nate's expression shifted a little, becoming guarded. "Well they had to do something with me after my job was done." The redhead let that hang for a moment, then his expression broke once more into an easy smile. "But that's in the past. Very long ago in the past, in fact, so I'm pretty sure it's safe to forget about it. Now come on, it's getting into the evening, and I want food." With that, he strode away, leaving MacCready stood at the end of the bed to contemplate what he had just been told. This was the first he'd heard of Nate's life before the war, short of his brief discussions about his wife and son. Honestly, he couldn't judge the guy for having a shady past, considering what he'd done himself, but the way his expression closed off at the mention of it, and the way he'd changed the subject so willingly made MacCready wonder if he'd done something he regretted. Maybe one day he'd get it out of the man, but if he didn't want to share, MacCready wasn't going to make him. Besides, he thought, Nate was right. Whatever had happened, it happened a really, really long time ago.

 

Nate cooked again, a thick stew made of various meats, vegetables and what little herbs he could find. Hancock joined them, and they discovered that despite the fact that he looked like he hadn't eaten a decent meal in years, he ate twice as much as everyone else. MacCready put it down to the munchies. He wasn't sure how to feel about the ghoul's chem habit, but one thing for certain was that he wasn't going to stop any time soon.

After everyone was satisfied, and conversation had dulled down, people began splitting up to do their own thing.

"Are we planning on going tomorrow, then?" MacCready asked as he and Nate retreated to Nate's room. He found himself wondering if he was now effectively a permanent resident here.

"If you're alright with that, yeah. I'm pretty much ready to go." Nate inclined his head slightly to the side. "As ready as I can be, anyway."

"Mm." MacCready pulled his shirt off, getting ready for bed as Nate did the same. He was taken almost by surprise when he felt Nate's hands on his hips, and warm breath on the back of his neck. A shiver went down his spine at the contact.

"How are you feeling?" Nate murmured, brushing his lips against the skin just below MacCready's ear.

"I'm... alright." The merc replied, a little confused.

"Not sore anymore then?"

"Oh." MacCready leaned back into the redhead's embrace, enjoying having the older man's arms around him. "Not really. It's manageable." He huffed softly. "I'm not letting you do it to me again tonight though. If we're actually going to do this Courser thing."

"Damn." Nate kissed the side of his neck. "Doesn't mean I couldn't do something else to you though."

"Oh?" The merc tilted his head back into Nate's shoulder, exposing himself to more kisses.

"Mmm." Nate's fingers traced his hip, his touch light enough to make him shiver. He closed his eyes against the feeling, a simple brush of fingers against bare skin, threatening to dip below the fabric of his boxers. The hand left his skin, making him open his eyes in disappointment, but it was only so Nate could unbutton his pants, wordlessly insisting that MacCready rid himself of the offending articles. He stepped away from his lover, divesting himself of the rest of his clothes as Nate watched, a light of hunger in his eyes. The air was cool on his bare skin, so when Nate stepped forwards, his body hot against MacCready's, it was very welcome. The older man kissed him, his kisses soft but insistent as his hands roamed MacCready's body. MacCready pressed himself to Nate, eager for contact as Nate's attentions began to draw a reaction from him. Nate pushed him back just a little so his legs hit the side of the bed and he sat down hard, thrown off balance.

"Hey..." he protested, but then Nate leaned over him and pressed their lips together once more. He felt Nate's hands on his chest, pushing him down so he lay on his back, his feet still on the floor. Nate's fingers drew lines over MacCready's chest, drawing little twitches from him as he touched more sensitive spots. When Nate's fingers brushed over his nipple he gasped a little, shifting his hips as he felt desire stirring in the pit of his stomach. Nate trailed kisses down his jaw and his neck, nipping at the side of his throat as he continued to tease MacCready with his fingertips. The younger man's body flushed with pleasure, getting more and more turned on as Nate touched him.

"Nate..." He bucked his hips a little, his now hard cock wanting attention.

"A little excitable, are we?" Nate murmured against MacCready's throat, pinching his nipple as he did so and making him gasp.

"Your fault." The merc reminded him, threading his fingers through his lover's hair. Nate hummed a laugh, tracing MacCready's collarbone with his lips. His free hand traced the younger man's hip, running up and down it and going just a little further each time. The anticipation of Nate's touch was making MacCready's cock twitch, and he found himself unable to stay still, shifting himself in a wordless attempt to make Nate give him what he wanted. When he felt Nate's tongue on his other nipple, warm and wet, he heard a whimper escape his throat, and he clapped a hand over his mouth, a little embarrassed at the noise. The sensation was strangely pleasurable, and more powerful than he had expected. Lucy had never done this to him, since they'd kind of assumed girls were the only ones with sensitive nipples, so this was a new experience, and one he definitely enjoyed. Nate's hand left his chest, pulling his hand away from his mouth as he sucked on the sensitive spot, pulling more soft noises of pleasure from the man beneath him.

"Jesus, Nate, stop being such a tease." He bucked again as Nate's hand brushed his inner thigh, high up enough to have him shake as another flash of heated anticipation went through him. The older man responded with an ever-so-soft bite, that despite how gentle it was, still made MacCready's entire body jerk at the shock of pain from such a sensitive place. " _Nate_."

The redhead smirked up at him, then ran his knuckle up the underside of his lover's cock, a touch that was barely there, but that nevertheless drew a soft moan from MacCready's throat as he finally got some attention. Seeming to decide that he'd teased him enough, his fingers wrapped around MacCready's shaft, tugging at him and pulling a gasp and a whimper from him. The touch was addictive and the surface of his skin almost felt like it was burning all of a sudden. Nate stroked him slowly but firmly, his hand warm and strong.

"Oh... oh, _Nate_..." MacCready's voice was breathy, the combination of the hand on his cock and the mouth on his chest setting his skin on fire. He felt Nate's thumb brushing the tip, and his cheeks felt flushed at the pleasure. Nate lifted himself up without stopping his ministrations, looking MacCready in the eye. The air in the room felt cool against the wetness left behind by Nate's tongue, and part of MacCready wished he hadn't stopped.

"Feels good?" He asked in a low voice.

"Yeah..." MacCready smiled softly, the mounting pleasure making him feel a little delirious. Nate kissed him, and he felt the other man's tongue against his own. He nipped at the older man's lip playfully, and got a soft growl and a bite of his own in return. He smiled, a bubble of contentment in his chest. Nate pulled him upright into a sitting position and encouraged him to spread his legs, pushing his thigh gently. He then dropped to his knees between them, and MacCready felt his breath hitch in his chest slightly as Nate kissed the inside of his thigh. The redhead met his gaze, smirking softly as he saw the blush on MacCready's cheeks and the lust in his eyes.

"You're gorgeous, you know that?" He commented, palming MacCready's cock and watching his reactions.

"I... thank you?" MacCready's eyes widened ever so slightly at the compliment, unsure of how to react. "I mean... I'm not... I'm not as attractive as you..."

"Even with all these scars?" Nate raised an eyebrow. The younger man frowned, and he cupped Nate's cheek, brushing his thumb over the mark high on his cheekbone.

"You'll always be attractive. Doesn't matter how many deathclaws get to you." Nate chuckled, and kissed MacCready's thigh again, this time trailing his lips up to the base of MacCready's cock. MacCready shivered at the feeling of Nate's warm breath on such a sensitive place.

"You're such a sap. I love it." Nate murmured before running his tongue up the underside of MacCready's cock, causing him to gasp and moan Nate's name. The redhead teased him, licking the tip and making his breath come in short pants as pleasure flashed through his body. Nate seemed to be experimenting, finding spots that would make MacCready twitch and gasp, using his hand to pleasure him as much as his tongue. When he licked over the slit, collecting the droplet of precome that had beaded there, MacCready moaned aloud. Nate glanced up at him, catching his eye and doing it again. MacCready felt himself blush; something about watching Nate on his knees before him doing this was incredibly arousing, and he was somewhat in awe as, without breaking eye contact, Nate took the head of MacCready's cock into his mouth, pressing his tongue to the underside as he did so. MacCready's body stiffened, the wet warmth sending hot pleasure through him and making his every muscle tense. He wanted so badly to thrust into Nate's mouth, but he held back out of courtesy, wondering just how far Nate could go. With his hand still working the base of MacCready's cock, he began to move, sliding his lips up and down, using his tongue simultaneously in a way that made MacCready's brain short circuit.

"O- _oh god_..." MacCready moaned breathlessly, his hands in Nate's hair, unable to stop himself from shifting, moving with Nate even if he didn't thrust properly. Nate went relatively slowly, taking time to get used to the feeling before going a little further, and a little further again. The muscles in MacCready's legs tensed, his toes curling as the pleasure escalated. He swore he felt himself hit the back of Nate's throat, and he looked down, seeing that Nate was repeatedly taking more than half of his length into his mouth.

"Ah, C-Christ, you're... you're so gorgeous..." he breathed, and Nate moaned in response. MacCready _felt_ the sound, shaking him to the core. He put his hand to his mouth, covering the soft, weak moans Nate was forcing out of him. His breathing was uneven, shuddering. A familiar pressure built in the pit of his stomach, and he bucked into Nate's mouth, unable to help himself.

"F-f... _aaah_..." he moaned into his palm, spitting out from between gritted teeth, "Nate... Nate, I'm... _Ah_ -" He felt Nate's hand on his ass, and he thrust his hips forward, coming hard with a cry of pleasure as his nerves whited out. Nate pulled back as he came, stroking him through his orgasm. His body twitched, the last waves of tension leaving him, and he panted, eyes closed and thoughts scattered. He felt Nate's mouth leave him, and he opened his eyes, looking down at his lover. The older man's cheeks were flushed, and his lips were obscenely wet. There was a white smear at the corner of his mouth, which he wiped away with his thumb and licked off as he met MacCready's gaze. It was an incredibly erotic sight.

"H- Holy..." MacCready breathed. "That was amazing."

"I'm a touch out of practice." He commented off-handedly. "Give me a few tries, I'll be able to get _all_ of you down my throat." He grinned at MacCready's expression.

"I... don't think I could do that." The younger man admitted, slightly worried that Nate might expect the same from him.

"I wouldn't expect you to." Nate stood up, his erection obvious through the underwear he was still wearing.

"Hey, why aren't you naked yet?" MacCready halfheartedly complained, still somewhat spaced out from his orgasm. Nate laughed, and pulled off his underwear, straddling MacCready. "Better?"

"Much." MacCready commented, and pulled Nate down for a kiss. As he kissed the redhead, he found he could taste something salty and bitter on his tongue. When he pulled back, he wrinkled his nose. "Is that really what I taste like?"

Nate chuckled, and MacCready could feel his laugh against his body. "You get used to the flavour."

"Mmm." MacCready frowned for a moment, thinking. "Lay down."

"Hm?"

"On the bed."

Nate did as he was told, getting off MacCready and laying on his back on the sheets. MacCready sat on top of him, sitting back and taking in the sight of the man below him. Nate was looking up at him, his expression mildly curious. MacCready leaned forwards, running his hands over Nate's body. Nate sighed in pleasure as his fingers brushed his nipples, though he didn't have the same intensity of reaction that MacCready did. The texture of his skin was rough and uneven due to the many marks that littered his body, and MacCready felt the rise and fall of his lover's breathing beneath his palms. He pressed his lips to Nate's collar, his hands tracing over Nate's ribs, and the flat planes of his stomach. He could feel hard muscle beneath Nate's skin, and he wondered if Nate had always been this fit, or if the Commonwealth had forced him to gain muscle to survive. The merc's hand found Nate's navel, and felt the roughness of hair just below it, a little trail of red leading down between his legs. Nate's breath hitched in anticipation, and MacCready had to swallow sudden nerves. This was the first time he'd ever done this, and what if he couldn't give Nate what Nate had given him?

His fingers curled around the base of Nate's cock, prompting the older man to gasp and buck his hips a little. The hard flesh was hot beneath his palm, and very responsive. As he moved his hand experimentally, stroking the shaft, he felt it twitch. Nate sighed in pleasure, his eyes fluttering shut. Gaining confidence, MacCready increased his pace, being a little firmer, and enjoying the gasps and moans he was getting in response. He brushed his thumb over the tip, feeling a hint of slickness there, and Nate's body tensed.

"Ah, RJ..." he breathed, and the look he gave MacCready, all desire and adoration, gave the younger man the confidence to position himself between Nate's thighs. He paused in his ministrations, causing Nate to make a noise of displeasure, and mentally steeled himself. _I've gotta get all that down my throat_. He licked his lips, then copied what Nate had done to him, licking a long line up the underside of Nate's cock. He heard a sharp intake of breath, and glanced up at Nate as he worked a spot just below the head with the tip of his tongue. Nate's lips were parted, gasping in shallow breaths as he watched MacCready with rapt attention. The younger man felt almost self conscious under his scrutiny, and distracted himself by trailing his lips and tongue back down and up again. Nate tasted like sweat, he discovered, unsure of exactly what he had expected. He decided it wasn't unpleasant. He stroked Nate's length as he worked it with his mouth, making sure he was never neglected. Once he decided he was used to the texture and taste, he pulled up one last time, kissing the tip gently, then taking Nate into his mouth carefully. He heard Nate's moan, and he responded with a soft moan of his own. He took as much in as he could before his gag reflex kicked in, using his hand to pleasure what he couldn't get in his mouth. His jaw felt ever so slightly strained, and Nate's length felt hot and heavy on his tongue. He took a moment to acclimate to the sensation, then began moving, bobbing his head up and down, going as far as he could each time. Remembering what Nate had done to him, he used his tongue as best as he could to increase Nate's pleasure. He seemed to be doing alright, as he felt Nate's hips shifting in time with his actions, and he heard Nate's breathing was uneven, hitching and gasping and panting. He pushed himself to go a little further when he felt he could, and Nate's fingers grasped at his hair, pulling just enough to hurt.

"Fuck, RJ, you're doing so well..." Nate's voice was hoarse with lust, and MacCready moaned around his length in response. He attempted to swallow, and the resulting motion of his throat made Nate stiffen and buck his hips. " _Shit_."

MacCready's jaw was beginning to hurt, so he increased his pace, determined to finish Nate off before he had to stop. Nate was moaning and writhing beneath him, muttering his name, and his body felt tense, holding himself back.

"RJ," he spoke in a breathless tone, "You might want to- _ah_ \- I'm gonna- _fuck_ \- gonna come in your mouth if you don't stop." MacCready responded by swallowing around his length again, determined to return the favour. Nate let out a cry, his whole body taut as a bowstring. "A-Alright, if you're sure..." He managed to say, and MacCready felt his hips stutter. When MacCready felt something hot hit the back of his throat, and heard Nate cry out his name, he instinctively pulled back in surprise. It was only Nate's hand on the back of his head that stopped him from pulling away completely. He had to resist the urge to cough, and when Nate let go, he put his hand over his mouth to stop himself from doing so. He swallowed, tasting sweat and salt and sex, and when he pulled his hand away there was white on his fingers, his lips and his chin. He gave an experimental lick, cleaning himself up, and found that while it wasn't exactly pleasant, he didn't mind the flavour. Then Nate grabbed his wrist, pulling him down to join him. Nate's skin was flushed and damp with sweat, and he was breathing hard.

"Did I do alright?" MacCready asked, his voice a little rough. Nate rolled them over so he was looking down at his lover, propped up on one elbow. He used his free hand to wipe away a tear that had formed in the corner of MacCready's eye.

"You did amazingly." He gave him a long, slow, lazy kiss, his tongue against MacCready's, tasting himself. Then he fell back, eyes shut, clearly blissed out and exhausted. MacCready pulled the sheets over them, resting his head on Nate's shoulder and tangling their legs together.

"Love you." He murmured, only half expecting a reply.

"Love you too." Nate muttered, and they settled down to sleep in one another's arms.

 


	11. Long Nights and Strange Men

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coursers, Coursers... What do we know about Coursers? That they're strong, fast, deadly, adept at combat, stealth and tracking, and barely anyone's seen one and lived to tell the tale. 
> 
> Great.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Hallowe'en to all! I have a dissertation due in tonight and my Cambridge entrance exam on Wednesday, and here I am writing fanfiction for you guys instead. Priorities, amirite?  
> Well, here's a particularly bloody chapter for the spookiest night of the year. I hope you enjoy it. 
> 
> Trigger warnings for implied self harm, just a heads up.

MacCready's dreams were a mess. He saw Nate fighting a faceless synth dressed all in black, only the synth had foot long claws like a deathclaw's, and as they fought, the synth bore down on him. He saw Nate go down, and he did nothing. There was no trying and failing to help, no endless running or screaming uselessly. He just... stood there. Watched. Lucy was stood by his side, watching too, and she was saying something. Something about taking him and running. Who was him? Not Nate. He felt a touch on his hand, and looked down to see a little red headed child staring up at him.

"Is daddy coming with us?" The child asked, clinging to MacCready's jacket sleeve. He looked up, seeing blood and horror, glowing yellow eyes that stared down coldly at its prey. MacCready shook his head numbly. He took the child's hand, and led him away, leaving both Nate and Lucy behind.

A sound broke through the image. His mind reeled, halfway between dreams and reality. He felt dizzy and heavy, but the images in his head were gone. He heard soft snoring from beside him, and the noise pulled him further out of sleep, until he felt compelled to open his eyes. The world around him was dark and shadowy, no light, natural or artificial to be seen. He could just about make out the dark shape of Nate next to him, and he sighed heavily, reassured by the other man's breathing. He felt a familiar nagging craving, and he was already awake anyway, so he got up, exercising the sleep from his limbs, shaking away the last vestiges of his dream. He pulled on his pants and his jacket, fumbling in his pockets for a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. Being as quiet as possible to avoid disturbing Nate, he left the house, closing the door with a soft click behind him and finding a seat on the steps by the house. He had placed a cigarette between his lips and was lighting it when he heard a noise. Was that... voices? He pocketed the lighter, inhaling the smoke and listened.

"...don't want to, but give it to me." He heard a soft voice say. Cait's. There was a moment of silence. "Thank you. Now do ya want to talk?"

"What is there to talk about?" Another voice, which MacCready recognised as Preston.

"I dunno. Maybe what's goin' through your head right now?" Another silence. "Hold still." There was a hiss, as though in pain. MacCready watched the smoke rising through the chilly air, wondering if he should be listening, but curious as to what was going on.

"I... I don't really know. It's just been a bad day. You know how it is sometimes."

"Yeah. What do you normally do on bad days?"

Preston laughed bitterly. "This. Or drink."

"Hey, at least you've never turned to chems. I hear they're a right bitch to deal with." Another soft laugh, a more genuine one this time.

"Do you still want them? On bad days?"

"Sometimes. And it doesn't help that Nate's got a stash right there in his house where any of us could get at it."

"How do you stop yourself from just taking it?"

"I fight. Even if I'm not at the Combat Zone anymore, I still train. And I've got RJ too, now. He's always up for a sparring match. Though now Nate's back I'm not sure he'll be around quite so much." MacCready blinked. Cait agreeing to train him was her coping mechanism? "I guess what I'm trying to say is you gotta find something you enjoy doing, a project o' sorts to keep yerself distracted."

"What about times like now? In the middle of the night?"

"Do I help?"

"You know you do."

"Then come sleep next to me. I know it's a tight fit, I still need to ask Nate to get us a double bed actually, but you're always welcome."

"I can't be waking you up every time it gets bad."

"Sure you can. I can always sleep during the day." There was another moment of silence.

"Thank you." Then the sound of a kiss, and another, and another. MacCready began to feel a little awkward as the sounds grew more breathy and aggressive. "Outside?" Preston asked in a low, slightly hoarse voice.

"I think next door's empty." He heard scraping and rustling, presumably as the two of them stood up, and he covered the light of his cigarette with his hand, staying still and hoping neither of them noticed he was there in the dark. He heard the door of the office open, then close, and the night was quiet once more. He breathed a sigh of relief, then stopped to ponder what he had just unintentionally overheard. He recalled a brief snippet of conversation he'd had with Preston some time ago- _I know a man about to give up when I see one_. He knew the wasteland had a habit of getting to people, of pushing them to the breaking point and tearing them down layer by layer. And he felt like he knew what it had been that had forced Preston to that edge; the Quincy massacre. He found himself wondering morbidly how many of Preston's close friends and comrades he'd killed, one bullet into the brain, just another notch on his belt. He stood up, leaning on the railing of the decking, staring up at the sky. He didn't deserve to be here in Covenant, with so many luxuries, and a man who loved him by his side. Sometimes he blamed the world for his problems. Sometimes he had the audacity to say that life was not fair to him, that he'd suffered more than he deserved. That wasn't true, was it? He drew another breath, the smoke hot and heavy in his lungs. And now he was here, suffering no repercussions for what he had done. The Gunners were off his back, thanks to Nate, and Preston either didn't know or had already forgiven him. He hoped it was the former. He didn't want to be forgiven.

 

He stayed outside for a while, just smoking and staring at the sky and thinking. Eventually, though, tiredness started to creep into his brain and he stubbed out his cigarette, returning indoors. Nate was still asleep when he came back, but after he stripped off once more and climbed back into the welcoming warmth of the bed, Nate stirred.

"Where'd you go?" He slurred in a thick, tired voice.

"Smoke break." MacCready started to settle down next to him, but the redhead had other plans, pulling him down on top of him so he curled up on his chest.

"Y'r cold." He commented, petting MacCready's hair absentmindedly. "'N you smell like cigarettes."

MacCready laughed, tracing Nate's collarbone with his fingertip. "No, really?" The feeling of Nate's fingers combing through his hair was pleasant and comforting, and he closed his eyes, comfortable. Nate made a low noise of contentment, and eventually his hand stilled, his breathing evening out once more. MacCready's own thoughts were hazy, and he rested his head in the crook of Nate's neck, breathing in the faint smell of sweat and metal that Nate seemed to always have on him. As he drifted back into sleep, he hoped that the nightmares would leave him alone.

 

The following morning felt like it came too soon. He woke up with Nate's arm around him, and his face against his shoulder. He felt a damp spot where Nate had drooled on him. Wrinkling his nose, he pushed his boyfriend away, waking him up in the process.

"Wh-?" Nate was startled out of sleep, sitting almost bolt upright. MacCready used the sheets to clean himself off.

"You drooled on me. You're gross."

Nate blinked, then yawned. "You didn't seem to mind having my spit on you last night."

MacCready blushed, glaring at him. "That's different."

Nate chuckled, then lay back down again. "Occupational hazard, I'm afraid."

Huffing, MacCready lay back down beside him. "Time?"

Nate reached over to where his pipboy lay atop his chest of drawers. "Eight thirty-two." He sighed. "I suppose we ought to get up. I've got no idea how long it's gonna take to track this thing, and hunting it at night doesn't seem like the best idea."

"Mmm." MacCready lay on his front, his face in the pillow for as long as he could stand before he had to resurface for air. Resting his head on crossed arms, he closed his eyes. It was only a moment before he felt light touches trailing up and down his spine, making him arch his back.

"Come on. Up."

"'S nice." He sighed, electing to ignore the order. He felt the bed shift, then weight on his ass and hands on his back, thumbs pressing circles into the space between his shoulder blades. He made a soft noise of contentment. Nate took this as encouragement, working the tension from MacCready's shoulders and back, the strength in his hands feeling amazing as he did so. He did this for a few minutes, his hands travelling from his neck all the way to the base of his spine and back again, then he stopped, pressing his lips to the back of his lover's neck.

"Alright. Now will you get up?"

"...Maybe. If you get off me." Nate hummed a laugh and obliged, getting off so MacCready could push himself up. He sighed happily, feeling pleasantly relaxed. "Can't we stay here all day?"

"Unfortunately not." He held out a hand to help MacCready to his feet, pulling him in for a kiss. "I'd love to spend the whole day in bed with you, but we've got a Courser to kill."

"You're not selling it." MacCready complained.

"I'm sorry love, but you're the one who insisted upon coming with me next time I go on a dangerous mission."

“…Fine.” He stepped back. “Suppose we ought to get dressed then.”

“Probably.”

They did so, kitting themselves out in the best gear Nate had collected and modified. Nate fastened his claw around his neck and his pipboy around his wrist, then slung his rifle over his shoulder and sheathed his sword at his waist. MacCready had to admit, with his armour and weapons about his person, tying back his hair into its usual ponytail with an almost grim look on his face, he was intimidating. The merc had no idea what a Courser was supposed to look like, but he imagined Nate could probably stand up against one. He donned his own armour, its heavy weight all too familiar, and filled his pockets with ammo. His gun at his back, he watched as Nate packed a couple days’ worth of supplies, and caught his eye as he turned back to face him.

“Ready?”

“Let’s do this.” Nate grinned, that slightly unnerving sharklike smile he put on when eager for a fight. MacCready nodded, leading the way out of the house. He was about to leave Covenant when Nate stopped him. “Hold up.” Turning, MacCready saw his boyfriend signalling to get the attention of Preston, who was already up and working not too far away. Preston dropped what he was doing and approached them.

“What is it, General?”

“I’ve got a job for you. Ronnie’s been complaining about the lack of ammo for her new toys. You know where my stock is. I’d like you to run some supplies to the Castle, maybe help them set up some traps. As great as the place is, its defences have a long way to go as of yet.”

Preston nodded. “Of course. Uh, if I may ask, how long are you planning on being gone?”

“Honestly? I’ve got no idea. If I get no trail in the next two days I’ll come back and try again another time. If we're away longer than that it means we're either tracking it or fighting it."

"Okay. Watch yourself, General." He nodded, and his eyes flicked between Nate and MacCready. For one horrible moment, MacCready thought he saw something in the Minuteman's expression. Recognition, and maybe anger. He shifted uncomfortably, the weight of the armour suddenly feeling oppressive.

"Something wrong?" Nate frowned, looking between them. Preston blinked, seeming to snap out of it.

"Not at all General. I hope you and RJ find what you're looking for and come back safe." He smiled genially, and Nate nodded, still looking confused.

"Alright. Well, say hi to Ronnie for me."

 

As they closed the gate behind themselves and began off down the path, Nate looked at MacCready.

"Do you know what that was about?"

MacCready stared at the dirt, his fingers curling about the strap keeping his rifle slung over his shoulder.

"I... might have a vague idea." He admitted, a heavy feeling in his chest. "Cait told me about Quincy."

There was a pause. Nate nodded, understanding.

"I guess the armour I was wearing that day didn't look so different to what I'm wearing right now." His grip tightened slightly. "I don't know how many of his friends I killed. I don't want to know. I guess I'm just lucky I got to meet him as a friend before he figured it out. Maybe he won't hate me too much." Nate was silent for a moment, then he reached out and took MacCready's hand, lacing their fingers together.

"You've left that part of your life behind. You know that, I know that, he knows that. If there's one thing Preston is, it's kind. He won't hate you." The redhead grinned. "If nothing else, he trusts me, therefore he has to trust you by proxy."

"Mmm." MacCready was comforted by Nate's words, but they didn't ease the guilt in his stomach. Nate sighed.

"Look. Sometimes you fall in with a bad crowd and you do stuff you regret. You're not the only one. The good news is that if you regret it that means you've realised it was wrong, which in turn means that you've changed. Don't beat yourself up about it, okay?"

"...It sounds like you speak from personal experience." MacCready glanced up at Nate, trying to gauge his expression. He had a faraway look in his eyes.

"Maybe I do."

MacCready felt a pang of irritation before he could help himself. "Alright, what's with all the cryptic bullsh- all the secrecy?" He didn't pull his hand from Nate's, but his fingers did twitch a little. "You know my story. All the interesting bits anyway, and yet I barely know anything about you beyond you were a prewar soldier, which I'm still having a hard time believing, honestly."

Nate barked a bitter laugh. "I wouldn't believe it myself if I wasn't living it."

"So why don't you tell me more about yourself?"

"Fine, fine. My job wasn't so different from what you do, except back then mercenary work wasn't quite so common or accepted. In fact, it was very much against the law. Except when it was the law themselves who wanted shit done."

"So... you got paid to kill people?"

"Pretty much, yup." He grimaced. "See, the way war works is that people are conditioned to hate the opposition. Entire nations are brainwashed into thinking that even the innocent people who have nothing to do with the fighting are pure evil if they come from the country you're fighting with. At least they try. Sometimes a few people slip through the net. Then they end up sympathising, and then they try to put an end to the fighting. Usually by selling information to prevent attacks. My job was to find the sympathisers and remove them from the equation. The higher ups didn't care how, as long as they could make me into the scapegoat for their crimes." His eyes were steely, a sort of cold determination in his expression. "I was at home when the bombs fell because my employers had me dragged off and kicked out of the army for being a Chinese sympathiser and a murderer. I killed off the people they wanted dead so they wouldn't have to admit spies got into our ranks, and then they blamed the information leaks on me. They told my unit that I was jailed for my crimes, awaiting stricter punishment. In reality they gave me a hefty sum of money, a nice house and a promise that as long as I kept my head down and lived a quiet, suburban life I would be exempt from both further service and any punishment by law. So that's what I did, at least until Vault-Tec told me that my family and I had VIP entry to their premium icebox."

MacCready couldn't help it. He was staring. Nate's voice had taken on a bitter tone, though the steel hadn't left his eyes.

"They really did that to you?"

"Yup. See, you might think that the world before the bombs was civilised." He laughed, the sound painfully cynical. "No, it was just as fucked up. They just found more subtle ways of doing it."

MacCready frowned, turning his gaze back to the dirt under their feet. "Am I the only one who knows about this?"

"Yeah. Even before the bombs, Ever was the only one who knew. Funny story, actually. She was a law student. Just graduated. She told me that when she first met me she thought I was genuinely a convicted criminal. Obviously she'd read my name somewhere, or seen my picture." He laughed again, only this time it was much warmer and more genuine. "Talk about love at first sight. I think she saw me more as a case than a person. I fascinated her." His hand went to his pocket, where MacCready knew he kept the rings, like he always did. "Honestly, it's probably a wonder that she didn't try to turn me in immediately. But no. She, being the wonderful smartass that she was, thought she could 'get to know' me. Find out what makes a murderer tick."

"Brave girl." MacCready muttered.

"Mmm. Of course, eventually I had to tell her the truth. Though by that point I don't think she would have turned me in either way. God, you say it all out loud and it sounds like something out of a novel. That's probably where she got her ideas from, seeing how she loved to read."

"Huh." MacCready tried to process all this. It did sound like a story, but then again Nate's history had sounded like something straight out of fiction right from the start. "You must have made quite the couple."

"Yeah, we did. Not that the neighbours ever knew the half of it. Too busy pruning their lawns, half of them. It was really quite amazing to see all these folks living such mundane, comfortable lives whilst their fellow Americans fought tooth and nail for their freedom. I think half of them genuinely believed the war was a made up excuse for the government to take more of their hard-earned cash." He snorted, amused. "The bombs were a bit of a wake up call." He caught MacCready's eye, and smiled. "So there you go. A little bit more insight into Nathaniel Delaney. Satisfied?"

"For now." MacCready grinned at him. "Thanks. For telling me."

"No, you were right. You deserved to know more about me." He looked up at the path ahead of them. "Now come on. I want to be at CIT before nightfall."

 

The old university was eerie, even in daylight. It comprised of a courtyard flanked on three sides by a tall, white-walled building that seemed relatively intact compared to the structures around it. There was an empty trailer in the yard, from which Nate scavenged a few useful bits and pieces. Then he sat on the stone steps at its door and turned his attentions to his pipboy.

"Alright. So apparently the Courser signal can be picked up on the radio waves if I tune it to the right frequency." He flicked a switch and began fiddling with a dial. Static burst from the thing, changing tone as Nate adjusted it. "If there's..." He bit his lip, thinking. "If there's one nearby its chip should be broadcasting a signal. If we can pick up the signal we can trace it to its source."

MacCready readied his rifle, glancing around as though the Courser was going to jump out at them at any point. He almost jumped when a tone sounded from the static, short and sharp. Nate stopped fiddling and stared at the screen. Silence. A second passed, then another, then another. Nate was about to go back to fiddling with the dial when the tone sounded again.

"Is that the signal?" MacCready asked.

"I dunno. Might be." The pipboy beeped again.

"How do we use it to track the Courser?"

"Hold on." He tapped the screen a couple times. "There. I've got a number telling me the signal's strength. I guess we just walk around until we find which direction it gets bigger in." With that, he stood up, brushing himself off.

"Where to first then?"

"Uhh..." Nate glanced around, then pointed in a random direction. "That way, I guess."

 

It turned out that following the signal was incredibly easy. All they had to do was walk in one direction, and every few seconds Nate's pipboy would update itself, telling them effectively if they were warmer or colder. Before too long, they were stood at the foot of an old building.

"Greenetech Genetics, huh?" MacCready glanced around. "Uh, Nate?" He gestured to a pair of bodies lying in a pool of their own blood a short way away. Both were in green combat armour. "Looks fairly recent."

"Good sign." Nate commented. "Means our Institute friend is likely to have come through recently."

MacCready wrinkled his nose as he looked over the bodies. One appeared to have had his head cracked open, whilst the other's neck was violently twisted at an unnatural angle. He noticed that the pair's firearms were a short way away, lying abandoned on the pavement. Nate did his usual thing, stripping anything useful he could find from the corpses, then they readied their weapons and pushed their way into the building. The foyer showed clear signs of a recent fight; bodies, blood spatters and the distinct smell of gunpowder and ozone that suggested both regular and energy firearms had been used. After a quick sweep of the room, they moved on, keeping quiet. The next room was huge, seeming to be several floors high. MacCready pulled Nate to one side, hiding them both as a voice sounded from grainy speakers somewhere in the walls, and gunshots echoed from an upper floor.

" _The Courser's on the second floor. Kill on sight. Send reinforcements to the lobby in case there are more_." Nate glanced upwards, then back at MacCready.

"I don't think they're shooting at us."

"No, but they will be soon. We need to move." He nodded, waiting a moment later, then headed out into the open. Almost immediately, he had to dodge a blast from a laser turret positioned high on the wall. MacCready pulled out his rifle and shot one, two, three shots into the thing, knocking it from the wall. Then another three into the one on the other side of the room. Meanwhile, Nate took out a pair of machine gun turrets that were whirring away opposite them. The shots seemed to alert the people shooting on the upper floors, as he heard a yell, followed by a mess of scrambled shouting and several messy shots. Nate charged through the room to the door on the other side, and MacCready followed, dodging a few shots that may have been decent if he was standing still.

There were stairs in this corridor, and the hall that they led up to had three or four Gunners in it, clearly expecting the company from the way they crouched behind doorways and toppled cabinets, aiming guns at them as they came up the stairs. MacCready saw Nate stagger back slightly as a bullet sparked off his armour, but he charged forwards, unhindered, and swung his sword in a vicious arc, bisecting the one who shot him from shoulder to hip. She fell with an anguished cry, and he moved on to the next. In the close quarters of the corridor, Nate's melee battle style had a clear advantage over the long range rifles of his opponents, and he cut them down with ease.

" _What's going on down there_?" The voice over the speaker asked. " _How many are we dealing with_?"

"Well, if everyone didn't know we were here already, they will soon." MacCready grumbled.

"Good." Nate looked up from his kill, cold satisfaction in his eyes. "I want the fucker to know I'm coming." He stood up, pocketing the handful of ammo he'd taken from the Gunner's pockets.

They progressed quickly, cutting a bloody swath through anyone who came around the corner to face them. The voice over the speakers continued to report on their whereabouts, sounding increasingly panicked as it did so. Throughout this Nate wore a grim mockery of a smile, paying little to no attention to the Gunners who practically threw themselves at his feet. MacCready couldn't imagine what he must be feeling right now. Right above them, within their reach was one of the creations of his enemy, an elite unit designed to kidnap and kill innocents. Innocents like Nate's son and wife. The sadistic satisfaction in his expression became more and more pronounced as they progressed, and MacCready couldn't help but feel uneasy. He knew Nate was a killer; he'd seen the man laugh during battle, for God's sake, but there was something different about this. This wasn't adrenaline fuelled or a relinquishing of inhibitions. This was cold, calculated murder. In a quiet moment, when the bullets stopped and the shouts rang quiet, he took a breath and reached for Nate's wrist.

"Hm?" Nate made a questioning noise, but his focus didn't break. MacCready tugged a little bit harder, stopping the older man and pulling him closer.

"Hey. Stop."

"What? Something wrong?" Nate's eyes flicked over him, and he frowned a little. "You get hit?"

"No. I just... Are you alright?"

Nate blinked. His expression twitched. "Yeah. I'm fine. Why?"

"You just seem a little off. And it's kinda scaring me."

"I'm-" Nate stopped, straightened up and looked down at himself. "I'm scaring you?"

"Well, you're kind of acting like a full scale psychopath. You shish kebabed a guy in the stomach and didn't even bother to finish him off. Just left him there screaming in pain."

"And you put a bullet in his head." Nate commented, then sighed, his posture relaxing. "RJ, you know I wouldn't ever hurt you, don't you?"

"That's not what I'm worried about." Half a lie, but he'd go with it. "Don't lose yourself, okay? Don't become one of them." He gestured at one of the dead Gunners. "I left them because they were killing innocents. People who did nothing wrong but get in their way when they wanted something."

"I'm not-"

"I'm not saying that's what you're doing." MacCready interrupted. "I'm just saying... you know, watch who's on the receiving end of that thing." He pointed at the wickedly curved, demonic-looking sword in Nate's hand. His fingers flexed around its hilt. Then he nodded.

"I appreciate the concern. And you have my solemn word I won't let that happen. Alright?"

"Alright." MacCready gave him a quick kiss, then readied his rifle once more. "Now let's finish what we started."

 

They wiped out the last of the Gunners, and found themselves in an elevator headed up to the top floors of the building. The floor they arrived on was empty, and Nate glanced around, readying his sword. MacCready copied him, reloading his rifle and keeping a keen eye out for any movement. Nate looked down at his pipboy, then motioned for MacCready to follow him. They ascended another flight of stairs, and then MacCready heard a voice. It was low and calm, almost monotonous. Another voice struck up, this one loud and shrill, clearly terrified.

"I'm telling the truth, I don't know the password!"

"I don't believe you are." The first voice responded. Nate caught MacCready's eye for a brief moment, then approached the door.

"Oh God, please no!" The second voice cried, then a sickening crack met MacCready's ears. He winced.

"You don't have to do this..." A third voice spoke up, sounding equally as panicked. But before they could find out exactly whether or not the Courser had to do anything, he spoke in a raised voice.

"You! Come here." MacCready looked at Nate, a chord of worry in his heart. Nate met his eyes and gave him a half grim, half reassuring smile. Then he strode out to meet the Courser.

MacCready wasn't sure what he had expected, but it wasn't a man who looked human, with strong brows and dark hair tied back from his face. He was aiming an energy weapon at the two of them, his eyes narrow and cold.

"Are you here for the synth?"

"You could say that." Nate responded, in a tone that almost matched the Courser's for pure ice. The Courser glared at him. "If you're not here for the synth, then you're here for me." It raised an eyebrow. "I would have thought there were more of you, considering the commotion you made getting up here."

"Nope. Just us." Nate held up his sword. "Scared?" MacCready gave him a sideways look, silently urging him _Don't goad the walking Institute death machine_. But Nate's expression was set.

"I advise you leave the premises immediately, or face imminent termination." MacCready took a deep breath, and readied his rifle. The Courser seemed to take that as a threat, firing a shot in MacCready's direction. It hit his breastplate, the armour suddenly uncomfortably warm against his chest, and he yelped, aiming his gun and firing back. Simultaneously, Nate launched himself at the synth, bringing the sword down in a double-handed blow. MacCready didn't think he'd ever seen anything move as fast as the Courser did then, knocking the sword aside with the butt of his gun and shoving his knee into Nate's abdomen, right into the spot where his armour was woefully thin. He grunted in pain, doubling over as the Courser struck the back of his head with the pistol, knocking him to the ground. MacCready acted on instinct, firing shot after shot into the synth. It backed up, pressing a hand to its shoulder, seeming surprised to find blood there. Then it turned its attentions to him. He had maybe half a second to prepare before his gun was out of his hand and a fist connected with his jaw, sending him reeling. Remembering Cait's training, instead of backing off he stepped into the Courser's space, jabbing him hard in the side with an elbow. The Courser hissed, taking another swing. For all his hard work, all the bruises and the dirt and the sweat, the Courser was better than him. It was faster, and stronger, and it seemed to predict MacCready's moves before he made them. He prided himself on his endurance, however, and every time the Courser hit him he just took another swing, brushing off the pain. The Courser seemed to realise this, and changed tactics. It grabbed his wrist, moving faster than he could follow, and twisted. His arm was forced up behind his back and he screamed as he felt his shoulder crack in a way it really shouldn't. He gasped in pain, blinking away tears, but before he could recover his legs were out from under him, and he was on the floor. He looked up briefly to see Nate staggering to his feet, and felt a rough tug on his hair as he was forced to his knees. Cold hands pressed either side of his head, and he braced himself for the inevitable snap-

Three bodies fell to the floor. Nate's warm weight was on top of them, and then he was wrestling the Courser, trying desperately to keep him pinned. The Courser put up a strong fight, but Nate now had the advantage, keeping the synth on the ground beneath him. MacCready could see through blurred vision that the side of Nate's head was bloody.

"My sword!" He yelled. "RJ get me my sword!" He nodded, though he was aware Nate couldn't see him, and scrambled across the floor in an awkward three-limbed crawl. His shoulder throbbed. Finding the hilt of the blade, he forced himself to his feet and ran to where Nate was struggling to keep his prey down. The Courser took the opportunity as Nate reached out a hand for the blade to free itself, flipping them over. It pressed down on Nate's throat as he struggled. Panic rising in his chest, MacCready slashed at the Courser, tearing a long gash in its back. It whirled, getting to its feet with death in its eyes. Nate gasped in a breath and grabbed for a knife in a sheath on the dead Gunner's leg. The Courser bore down on MacCready, forcing the sword closer and closer to his throat, his shoulder screaming in agony. Before it could cut him open, however, Nate was behind it, drawing the knife across its own neck. Blood flowed freely, dripping through Nate's fingers as he held the Courser to his chest. It scrabbled against his hand, making horrible gasping, gurgling noises. MacCready panted from pain and exertion, watching as the thing's movement got weaker, then stopped, and it collapsed. Nate stood silently for a moment longer, scarlet liquid running down his arm, then he dropped the dead synth, putting his bloody hand to his head. He hissed in pain as he touched the wound where the Courser had hit him with its gun. MacCready clutched his shoulder. For a moment, they both stood there, breathing heavily and clutching their injuries, then they caught each other's gaze and broke into laughter.

"We did it." Nate breathed, grinning wildly.

"Yeah we did. Nate and RJ, Courser killers extraordinaire." He broke into another laugh. Nate dropped to the floor, kneeling over the Courser's body. He pressed his fingers to the back of its head, then replaced his fingers with the blade of the knife. MacCready looked away as he sliced through skin and sinew.

"Ah hah." There was a gross squelching sound that made MacCready's stomach turn, and then Nate stood up. When he looked back, Nate was holding a small component that might have been made of metal under all the gore.

"That's it?" MacCready asked, mildly in awe.

"Yup. This is it." He took in a deep breath. "My ticket into the Institute."

 


	12. Going Underground

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So they've got the chip, the question now is how the hell do they use it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I probably could have written more for this chapter but I figured I could get the whole of the next quest into the next chapter and it would flow better, so this one's just a little bit shorter.  
> Also I finally got around to playing the DLC and a large part of me now wants to stick Nate in Nuka World because I feel like that would be fun. Side story perhaps?

"Uh, excuse me?" The pair were broken out of their reverie by a voice, and MacCready looked up to see the face of a woman watching them from behind a window. "Can you get me out of here?" The merc glanced at Nate, who wiped the blood off of the Courser chip and placed it carefully in his pocket.

"Of course."

MacCready wasn't sure he trusted her, but he was tired, and his shoulder was killing him, so as Nate set about opening her cell, he carefully undid the straps of his armour so he could get to the injury. Pressing his fingers to the skin, he felt something shift under his touch, and he bit his lip as a shock of pain went through him. He could tell it was already swollen, and he couldn't move his arm properly when he tried. Most likely a dislocation.

It turned out the girl was an escaped synth whom the Institute had sent a Courser to track down. MacCready's mistrust for her intensified, but between his injury and Nate's insistence, he couldn't act on it, so instead they just watched as she left.

"You sure she should be running around the Commonwealth?"

"She seems harmless enough. And if she's escaped the Institute, that means she's not here to do their dirty work." Nate turned to him, his eyes flicking to his now unarmoured shoulder. "Is that okay?"

"Not really." MacCready pressed a hand to it. "I think the Courser dislocated it."

"You want a hand?"

The merc grimaced. "Probably ought to. Go on then." He braced himself against the nearest wall. Nate placed one hand on his shoulder, the other carefully but firmly on his upper arm.

"This is gonna hurt like a motherfucker. You know that right?"

"Yeah. I know." MacCready took a deep breath, steadying himself.

"Alright." He pulled. MacCready quickly found out that Nate was right. It did hurt. A lot. He was pretty sure he screamed as Nate manipulated the bone, and the sudden intensity of the feeling when it literally popped back into place had him feeling horribly lightheaded and nauseous. For a moment, he though he might pass out, but then Nate let go, instead helping him stay on his feet. He leaned into Nate's chest, panting slightly.

"...Thanks."

"Any time." Nate held him for a minute or so, letting him get his thoughts in order, then reached into his pack and handed MacCready a stimpak. "Just to fix any muscle tearing that might have happened." MacCready nodded, and administered the medicine, sighing a little in relief as the last of the pain ebbed away.

"What about you? How's your head?"

"Sore." Nate admitted, "But not life threatening. Head wounds always look worse than they are." And it did look bad, half dried blood coating his temple and matting his hair.

"No concussion?"

"Well, I was reeling a bit when he first hit me, but I feel fine now. Just a mild headache."

MacCready glanced over at the Courser's body. He didn't think of it as a 'he'. Even the way it spoke; cold, calm and emotionless, indicated inhumanity. Nothing more than a machine built to hunt and kill. He felt a chill down his spine, and was suddenly very glad that it was dead. Nate was turning the chip over in his hand when he looked up again. Minus the viscera, it looked nothing like what MacCready would have expected from a chip, as it was fairly large and vaguely cylindrical in shape, with a dome shape at one end.

"So how do you use it?"

"I don't know. I think I should take it to Doc Amari. She helped me with Institute brain gizmos before."

MacCready raised an eyebrow. "You encounter a lot of this kind of thing then?"

Nate laughed. "No, just once. The merc who the Institute employed to hunt down my kid had these enhancements all over the place. Things to make him stronger, slow physical ageing and improve brain function."

"They can do that?" MacCready stopped and thought. He could be like the superheroes in the comics he loved so much... No. That was a bad idea. The Institute and their disturbing people experiments needed to stop.

"Yeah. Amari used the brain implant to get us information on how to get into the Institute. Though we did need Nick to use it..." He frowned. "I wonder if I'll have to ask for his help again."

"What did Nick do?"

"Amari plugged the thing into him. He was the one experiencing Kellogg's memories."

MacCready blinked. That would have been... really strange. He couldn't imagine being inside someone else's head like that.

"So... Are you gonna have to get that put in your head then?"

"I hope not. I don't even know if it's compatible with actual humans." He tucked it back into his pocket. "I guess we'll find out, huh?"

"I guess." MacCready murmured, unsure about this whole venture.

 

There was always something about Goodneighbour. It was sleazy, dirty, dodgy and dangerous, but that sort of fit MacCready. It was easy to blend in when everyone had their own troubled past. And yeah, Covenant was nice. It was everything that Goodneighbour wasn't, and that was probably a good thing. But every time MacCready returned to those neon-lit streets he felt like he was coming home.

"Well, if it isn't young Robbie MacCready." Irma winked at him from her reclining couch, looking as regal as ever in her red damask. "Looking for a bit of escape, love?"

"Not today, Irma." He glanced at Nate, who stepped forward.

"Is Amari busy? I have a question."

"Oh? Is there something wrong with your synthetic friend?"

"Nah, Nick's fine. I've got a gizmo I want her to look at. Some sort of neurological interface."

"Sounds fascinating." Her voice dripped seduction. "Well, you boys have fun. As far as I know she's available." She glanced over the two of them appreciatively. "Don't be strangers now."

Nate inclined his head in a sort of half bow, smirking a little and winking at her. "Wouldn't dream of it."

MacCready rolled his eyes.

 

Amari was as personable as ever, bustling around her little lab, fiddling with this, that and the other.

"Heya, Doc."

"Mr Delaney. What impossible task have you come to ask me to perform today?"

"Please, just Nate is fine." He withdrew the chip from his pocket. "You know what this is?"

She gave him a critical eye, which widened when it alighted on the chip. "My God, you really are something, aren't you?" She took it from him, inspecting it closely. "Am I correct to assume you killed an Institute Courser to get this?"

Nate made an assenting noise. "I need to use it to get into the relay they use to get to and from the Institute. Can you help me?"

"Hmm... Well, I can tell it to you now that if you were a synth this would be easy. All I'd have to do is upload the data into your brain and you could do with it what you needed. Unfortunately we're both assuming you're human, which complicates things." She passed it back to him. "I don't think I can help you with this one."

MacCready felt disappointment like a punch in his gut. Nate's face fell, too. Had they done all that for nothing?

"However, I might be able to point you in the direction of someone who can."

Nate perked up again. "You can?"

"Yes. Now bear with me. Have you heard of the Railroad?"

"Wait, you can't be serious." MacCready frowned. "The Railroad? Do they even exist?"

"Yes. They do."

MacCready blinked, processing this bit of information. There were people in the Commonwealth actively letting synths out of the Institute, helping them integrate into society. That... was mildly terrifying.

"Who are the Railroad?" Nate asked, looking confused.

"They are an underground group dedicated to the liberation of synths. A fair number of synths decide they don't like being used as Institute slaves, so then they go to the Railroad, who get them out and then send them to me. I give them new memories, and then they are free to live as humans in the Commonwealth."

"And... They can help me get into the Institute?"

"They may be able to, yes."

"How do I find them."

"The only instructions they give are this: Follow the Freedom Trail."

Nate frowned. "The tourist track?"

MacCready glanced up at him. "You've heard of it?"

"Well, yeah. It's a path that goes around Boston showing off a bunch of historically significant places. The kind of thing old people like to drag their grandkids around. Supposed to be educational or whatever." He turned back to Amari. "It's still there?"

"I assume so. So you know where it is?"

"Yeah, I walked it once when I was a kid. Found it boring as fuck, but whatever. It wasn't the trail to a secret organisation back then." He pocketed the chip. "Thanks, doc. I guess we should go then."

"Wait." She gestured at the side of Nate's head, still coated in blood. "I should look at that first."

"What? Oh, it's nothing." He touched the top of his head gingerly. "Just a cut."

"Nevertheless, it is a head injury, and they can be dangerous. You don't appear to be concussed, but I just want to make sure."

"Alright, fine."

 

MacCready waited while Amari cleaned the blood from Nate's face and hair and ran a diagnostic of him, making sure his brain was working properly, checking his reflexes and cognitive processes. Eventually, she deemed him to be in perfect working order and let him go. Nate insisted upon paying her a fair fee, then they left.

"So. The Railroad, huh?" MacCready asked, trying to sound casual. "Do you trust Amari?"

"She's helped me before. Hasn't given me any reason not to."

"What if these Railroad people are dangerous? I mean, they work with synths."

"If what Amari said is true, they free synths. As in stop them working for the Institute. That sounds like they're doing some good."

"Or they're letting the Institute's agents blend into society so they can spy on us. Maybe even kill us."

"RJ, I'm pretty sure not every synth is an evil agent of the Institute. And if they've had memory wipes, how would they even know who to relay information to?"

"I don't know. I just don't like it, okay?"

"Well, if they're the only people who can get me into the Institute then I'm willing to at least make their acquaintance."

"Mmm..."

They travelled in silence for a bit, until Nate switched on the radio, and began humming along to the song playing. He lapsed into soft singing after a while, and MacCready found himself listening to his boyfriend's voice as he walked.

" _So wish on the moon_

_And someday, it may be tomorrow_

_You will suddenly hear chimes_

_And you'll have your happy, happy times_."

It was low and calm, carrying the tune well most of the time. MacCready thought it reminded him of whiskey or bourbon in some strange way. Warm, comforting and rich, the aural equivalent of amber liquid and fire in your chest. He frowned at his own thoughts, wondering when he'd gotten so poetic. Maybe it was something to do with being in love. He'd heard it could do that to a person.

 

As it happened, he was so lost in his own thoughts that he didn't register where they were until they were suddenly out in the open, in a very recognisable place.

"Uh, Nate?"

"Hm?"

"We might want to be careful." His eyes went to the pond in the middle of the Common, searching it. "You might not know this, but a very nasty super mutant behemoth lives in that pond. We really don't want to disturb it."

Nate followed his gaze to the water. "Alright. Well, we won't be here long. Follow me." He skirted the edge of the Common, very carefully watching where he stepped so as to create as little noise as possible. MacCready followed him until they stood in front of a protectron in its case, a small plaque on the gate just behind it. "Here." He rubbed some of the dirt off the plaque. "Here begins the historic Freedom Trail, leading you on a journey through... blah blah blah state house et cetera..." He frowned, skim reading through it. "Doesn't mention anything in relation to a Railroad."

"Well, it wouldn't, would it? The Railroad's kind of a new addition."

"Fair point. So I guess we just follow the trail then?"

"That's what Amari said."

Nate nodded, then kicked some leaves off of a line of red bricks on the pavement. "This way."

Some of MacCready's unease left him as they walked away from the Common and Swan's Pond, and he noticed the expression on Nate's face as they followed the red line around Boston. It was a mixture of confusion and sadness.

"You alright?"

Nate blinked, seeming to snap out of it. "Oh. Yeah. Sorry, it's just... really strange. I remember all this from when I was a kid." He gestured towards a pile of rubble and wreckage. "A guy used to sell sweets and magazines there. I remember because my grandma bought me three new comics from him." He chuckled softly under his breath. "I spent more time looking at those than at all the stuff we came here to see. And that street there." He pointed a few streets down. "The diner where we had lunch was just around the corner. I had..." His face fell a little. "I had a bacon cheeseburger and an ice-cold vanilla shake. I convinced Gran to let me get an adult sized meal but it turned out I couldn't finish it after all." He smiled softly. "It's funny, isn't it? The completely unremarkable things you end up remembering sometimes."

MacCready wasn't sure what to say to that.

"And now... Now look at it." He sighed. "It used to be so alive. So colourful. But of course you wouldn't know that. Wouldn't remember it."

It was true. MacCready was having a hard time picturing the street the way Nate described it. Somehow the mental image was too cartoonish, based off of drawings and images he'd seen rather than real memory.

"Tell me more."

Nate looked down at him, seeming a little surprised. Then his face split into a smile. "What do you want to know?"

 

So as they walked the trail, occasionally stopping to note the markings on the plaques inlaid into the pavement, Nate described the way the world used to be. He attempted to describe what a milkshake tasted like, told MacCready about buskers playing music on street corners for change, how he had desperately wanted a motorbike so he could weave between the bright red and pastel blue cars. He talked about a world where people didn't want or need to carry weapons with them everywhere they went, where fresh, hot or cold food was available at all times, where people could spend their lives pursuing hobbies or careers instead of struggling just to survive.

"Of course, some of that did change once the war effort took off. People started talking about rationing food, and propaganda started showing up everywhere."

"Mm."

"It was just background noise though, really. Until I got drafted I didn't really believe it was actually happening." He frowned. "I was sixteen when they sent me to Canada. _Sixteen_. They treated it like it was some big adventure, taught us how to use their shiny new power armour suits and weapons like they were toys. I was only seventeen when I first took a life." He smiled bitterly. "See, to me that sounds outrageous. No teenager should be a killer. I guess that's changed now, too."

MacCready nodded. He couldn't even remember his first kill. It had been a part of life for as long as he could remember.

"Hey." Nate stopped. "I think we're here."

MacCready looked at the building they were stopped in front of. A crumbling old church.

"Here?"

"Yeah. Look." He pointed at a symbol painted in white on the wall. A lit lantern. "That's no religious art, and it never used to be there. That's a new addition."

"Could just be graffiti."

"Could be, but I think we should check it out anyway." He drew his sword. "Just in case."

Inside the church the air was musty, thick with dust. It was quiet and dark, what little light there was filtering through the holes and cracks in the ceiling. MacCready could see rows of broken pews in the centre, but the edges were shrouded in shadow. The silence was split as a guttural groan echoed and a ghoul rose from the dirt. Nate beheaded it as it ran at him. The noise woke more of them, though there weren't many. It only took a couple of minutes to clear the place.

"Over here." MacCready's fingers traced a design identical to the one outside, painted on a collapsed bit of flooring. Nate followed him as he went through the door underneath the wreckage, down a set of stairs and into what looked like a series of tunnels. There was a soft dripping sound coming from within the tunnels. And the floor was slightly damp. Nate switched on the lamp of his pipboy, green light flooding the area around them.

"What is this, some kind of crypt?" Nate asked in a soft, sombre voice as they walked past a series of coffins in individually walled off compartments in the wall.

"Looks like it." There was movement ahead of them, and MacCready shot the ghoul before it could get to its feet. Nate picked up a dented can off the floor, and slipped it into his pack. MacCready rolled his eyes.

The tunnels smelled of mould and rot, the few ghouls they encountered probably not helping the matter. When they reached what at first appeared to be a dead end, MacCready scuffed his foot over the design which was once again present, painted this time on the floor before the wall.

"Subtle."

"Mm. This whole thing does seem kinda... basic. I expected better from a secret organisation that's supposed to be outsmarting the Institute." He went to the plaque on the wall, and began fiddling with it. "I mean, at the very least they could have picked a better password."

MacCready laughed, watching as Nate put in the name of the organisation. There was a low noise from behind the wall, and the bricks slid aside. He couldn't help but be a little in awe at the display, as straight out of a mystery novel as it was. Behind the wall, the room was dark.

"I was kind of expecting something to happen by now." Nate spoke in a low, careful voice.

"Like what?"

He took a step forward, holding up his pipboy to shed some light on the situation. "To meet someone, or something. This... kinda feels like a trap." The sudden flash of bright light punctuated his words very nicely. MacCready put up a hand to shield against it, seeing figures as his eyes adjusted to the light. "Or an ambush." Nate added, sounding vaguely amused.

"Stop right there." A female voice spoke, strong and commanding. Squinting a little against the floodlights trained on them, MacCready registered a tall, red headed woman, a man pointing a gun at them but more notably a woman in heavy armour wielding a minigun in their direction. He lowered his rifle.

"You went through a lot of effort to arrange this meeting, but before we go any further, answer my questions. Who the hell are you?"

Nate placed his sword on the ground, moving slowly and carefully. "Woah, woah, no need to point that at us. I'm not here to cause trouble."

"Oh really?" The woman's voice was stern and cynical. The voice of someone who didn't trust easily.

"I presume you," he gestured at the three of them, "would be working for the Railroad, correct?"

The woman's eyes narrowed. "How do you know about the Railroad?"

"I helped Karl out of a jam. He knows a guy who knows a guy, and they hooked me up with a lead." He lied smoothly. MacCready glanced at him, but didn't say anything. There was a moment of silence, in which MacCready wasn't sure if they would buy it.

"...We'll look into that." The woman replied, sounding unconvinced. "I am Desdemona. The leader of the Railroad. And you are..." She was interrupted by another guy, this one seeming to be unarmed, in fact he was wearing just jeans and a t shirt... and a pair of sunglasses. Underground. MacCready exchanged a look with Nate.

"Deacon. Where have you been?"

"Hey, you're having a party? Where's my invite?" The guy, Deacon, had a laid back way of speaking that made him sound a little bit spaced out.

"What intel do you have on these two?"

"Wait, you're telling me you haven't heard of this guy?" He pointed at Nate, who stood up a little straighter. MacCready thought he caught the ghost of a smirk on his lips. "News flash, Des. He's kind of a big deal out there." His face turned towards them, though they couldn't see his eyes through the glasses. "Fresh out of a vault and already hacking his way through raiders, Gunners and Institute mercenaries alike. We owe you big time for Kellogg, by the way." MacCready could have sworn the guy winked behind the dark lenses. "He was our public enemy number one." His attention turned back to Desdemona. "And if that weren't enough, he's also bringing back the Minutemen one settlement at a time, or so I hear."

By this point Nate was practically preening, wearing a self-satisfied expression. "Nice to know I'm not going unnoticed."

"Yeah. You're practically famous out there."

"What about his friend?" Desdemona's cold, calculating eyes turned to MacCready, who held her glare, unimpressed.

"I've heard his name tossed around Goodneighbour. Robert MacCready, ex-Gunner mercenary. Attracted a fair bit of unwanted attention for a while, until Vaultie here picked him up. Rumour has it he killed his old friends, pretty spectacularly if the stories are true. The Gunners don't show up around Goodneighbour any more."

MacCready wasn't sure how he felt about this stranger knowing so much about him. "Have you been stalking us or something?"

"What? Nah, I just get around a fair bit. I love a bit of bar gossip. Not my fault you guys inspire stories." He grinned.

Desdemona scrutinised them. "Hm. They sound like they could be dangerous enemies."

"Or valuable allies." Deacon added, his tone laden with suggestion. "Trust me, Des, we want them on our side."

"Alright. We'll give them a trial run." She gestured at the woman to her right, who lowered the massive minigun. Nate picked up and sheathed his sword, then made his way up to the platform where Desdemona was stood. "If you're going to be one of us, you're going to need code names. None of us go by our real names, just in case information gets out."

"Of course." Nate nodded. MacCready's mind immediately tried conjuring the coolest code name he could think of. Then he mentally berated himself, deciding he would just embarrass himself if he tried to name himself after a superhero.

"So?"

Nate blinked. "I choose it?"

"Everyone chooses theirs."

"Oh. Well. Call me... Charmer." He grinned that oh-so-charismatic grin of his. MacCready stifled a laugh. _Fitting_.

"And you?" Desdemona turned to him. He found himself stuttering, caught off guard.

"Uh, well, I... I don't know." He tried to think of something, but his mind went blank. "...Bullseye?"

Desdemona raised an eyebrow. "You're a good shot then?"

"Hell yeah." He regained his feet, confidence returning. "The best."

Desdemona glanced at Nate, who nodded. "It's true. Best rifleman I've seen."

"Hm. I'll have to look into that." She inclined her head in the direction of the agent in sunglasses. "Speak to Deacon about your first assignment."

"Actually..." Nate stopped her before she turned away from them. "I have a question."

"Oh?" Desdemona asked, looking curious. Nate withdrew the chip from his pocket.

"Can you help me use this?"

Desdemona's eyes flicked over the object, and her expression changed from unimpressed curiosity to surprise and even a little bit of awe. "Is that what I think it is?"

"Yup. Pulled it from a Courser's skull this morning."

"Holy shit..." She took it from Nate. "We've been after one of these for... well, for as long as we've been fighting the Institute."

"So you can help? Or not?"

"If anyone can make this thing sing, it's Tinker Tom. Go with Deacon, and whilst you're away I'll have him take a look. Anything we find, you will know when you get back."

"Alright." He smiled, looking relieved. "Thank you. I was worried I'd never be able to use it."

"It's all about the people you know." She inclined her head. "We only just met, and I already owe you. That has to be some kind of record."

"I try my best." He gave her a winning smile.

"I would hope so, if you're going to be one of us. Now go. There's work to be done."

 

"So. I guess we're working for you now." MacCready addressed Deacon. "I hope I get paid for this."

"Yeah... you might be disappointed." Deacon turned his shielded gaze to the shorter man. MacCready found the sunglasses mildly unnerving. He couldn't read Deacon's expression behind them. Then again, he supposed, that was probably the point. "This isn't mercenary work. We do this for the good of the Commonwealth."

"Is that right?" Yeah, he didn't trust this guy. People without a tangible motive were never predictable.

"What are we doing then?" Nate interrupted, seeming to sense the mounting tension.

"Right. So Des wants me to make you tourists- people who scout information for us- seems like a waste of talent to me, but whatever. Basically I'm gonna take you with me to meet one of our informants. We're gathering intel about a safehouse that was attacked."

"Okay."

"You ready to go right now? Or do you want some time?"

Nate exchanged a look with MacCready, who nodded. "I think we're ready to go now."

"Great. Let's get moving then."

 


	13. Feeding the Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes the little things just... get to you, you know? And most of the time, it's because of something more. Something you really need to get off your chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I took longer on this than normal, I know. I got stuck in a bit of a rut for some reason, but hey. Determination won out. I have so many ideas for where I want this story to go and I fully intend to follow through on them.   
> At any rate, I have had an exhausting day and writing this was very cathartic, in a way. I hope you enjoy it :)

"So who are we meeting with?" Nate was walking alongside Deacon, a few steps ahead of MacCready, who was still uneasy about this whole Railroad thing. He kept his hands on his rifle, and his eyes on the agent's back.

"His name's Ricky Dalton. He's just a tourist, doesn't know much about HQ or our main operations but he feeds us info for a fee."

"Is he trustworthy?"

Deacon shrugged. "Anyone's loyalty can be bought for the right price. Another reason to always keep your eye on those around you. Your friend has the right idea." MacCready started, uncomfortable that Deacon was aware of what he was doing. The Railroad agent laughed, throwing a glance over his shoulder. "Subtle as a brick wall. I'll be sure to behave." Nate chuckled, and MacCready glared at him.

"Alright. Well, I suppose we should hear what he has to say at the very least."

"Exactly. It's important to get the info first. Collect as much as you can and piece together the bits that make sense."

"And you do a lot of that?"

"It's my job. Recon and retrieval. For the record, I suppose it's worth telling you I've been keeping tabs on you since the stories floated out of Concord. Was considering contacting you myself if you didn't come to us."

"Really?"

"We could do with some more muscle. I mean, Glory's great at what she does, but she's only one agent. She can't be everywhere at once."

"Mm. You mentioned you thought tourism was a waste of talent. So what would you put me up to, given the chance?"

"Easy. You'd be a heavyweight. Clearing locales, escorting packages, direct assaults on Institute patrols. Maybe even a Courser hunt or two, if the situation's really dire."

"He doesn't need any help getting himself put in the firing line." MacCready muttered sourly, liking this guy less and less. Deacon's shielded gaze turned to him, and he was quiet for a moment, contemplating. "You care about him."

"Yeah." MacCready said shortly. "I do." Beside him, he caught Nate's soft smile.

"That's good. That means you'll take care of him. The Commonwealth needs more people who care enough to look out for others. And what we do at the Railroad, it's taking care of people who need it."

"Synths."

"Yeah. Synths." Deacon's expression had changed, becoming a little hostile. "They're people too. And if we can get people like Charmer on board we can save lives. And if you don't care about them, then care about everyone whose lives suck because of the Institute. Every synth we liberate is a blow against those bastards. Isn't that worth a bit of sacrifice?"

Nate fell into line beside MacCready, putting a hand on his shoulder. "It won't come to that. I promise." The merc looked at him, the marks on his face and the determination in his expression. He made a discontented noise.

"I can't stop you."

Nate sighed, taking MacCready's hand. "I'm not gonna leave you, RJ. I swear." The merc thought he saw an expression of mild interest cross Deacon's features at the show of affection, and took a slight sense of satisfaction in the fact that the Railroad agent didn't know everything about them.

"I know. I just don't like someone giving you an excuse to be some kind of martyr considering you seem to be intent on doing that on your own already."

Nate gave him a look, his expression conflicted, then spoke in a quiet voice. "I'm not suicidal."

"You're reckless. To the point of self destruction."

Deacon cleared his throat, seeming a little awkward. "Should I give you two a moment?"

Nate's eyes left MacCready's, his expression becoming firm resolve once more. "No. We have a mission to complete." With that, his hand left MacCready's, and he continued forward, walking ahead of both Deacon and MacCready.

 

"I'm not asking him to kill himself." Deacon commented a while later as they walked, Nate far enough ahead that he couldn't hear them.

"You're asking him to run headlong into danger, which he does enough of already."

"It's true that we've lost a lot of good agents," he stated, "but we're doing a lot of good."

"Look, I'm just gonna say it. I don't trust you. I don't trust any of this. I'm only here because Nate thinks you're the key to getting what he wants. I've already lost one person I cared about, and came really, really close to losing another. Nothing you say is gonna make me okay with it if you send him off on some stupid mission that I _know_ he'd accept and he gets himself killed. I don't think I could take it if it happened again."

Deacon was quiet for a moment. "I get it. I promise you I do. And I respect you for letting yourself care again, because that's more than I could do. At the end of the day, it's not up to me. If Des wants him to be a tourist he'll be a tourist and there'll be none of this frontlines shit. I'm just saying that if he wanted it he could have the chance to really make a difference. But if he wants to run off into the sunset and live a quiet, happy life with you I won't stop him."

_But that's just it. He doesn't want to_. MacCready thought, though he didn't say it out loud. Instead, he made a noncommittal noise and focused on the path ahead of them. This wasn't something he wanted to think about. For now he'd just push it from his mind and do his best to protect Nate from the dangers he insisted upon putting himself in.

 

The tourist, Dalton, was a sour-faced man who seemed to have a healthy dislike for the 'HQ heavies' as he referred to them. Talking to him revealed that the mission he had been sent on, to scout what remained of a base called the Switchboard, turned out to be a hell of a lot more dangerous than advertised. The place was apparently overrun with gen 1 and 2 synths, and the front entrance booby trapped with mines.

"So our job," Deacon told them after leaving Ricky behind, "is to find out what remains of Switchboard." He turned to Nate. "Do you trust what our friend told us?"

Nate frowned. "Why would he lie?"

"People have their reasons. But at any rate, I think it would be safer to use the back door."

Nate thought for a moment, then nodded. "Yeah. That makes sense." His hand went to the hilt of his sword. "Shall we, then?"

Deacon nodded. Nate's eyes flickered to MacCready, who was still feeling a little disgruntled.

"Hey." He nudged him on the shoulder. "Smile for me."

MacCready tried to give him evils, but he was wearing that little smile that emphasised the lines by his eyes, and it just got to him. He sighed, then smiled back, half-heartedly relectant.

"Better. I promise we'll talk properly once this is done, yeah?"

"Yeah."

 

As it turned out, the back entrance of the Switchboard was... inside a sewage pipe. Half submerged in cold, dirty, radioactive lake water. Nate waded in without too much thought, and Deacon followed him. MacCready stood on the bank for a second longer, grimacing, then he took a step forward. The icy water seeped into his shoes and socks and weighed down his clothes. The ground under his feet felt... smushy. He muttered complaints under his breath, and thanked the Lord it was only knee deep.

Inside the tunnel was dry ground, which MacCready was grateful for, and it seemed to be deserted, as Deacon predicted. A little way into the tunnel, they were stopped by a door locked shut with the kind of magnetic lock that couldn't be picked. Nate was instantly disappointed, but Deacon reassured him that he could hack into the terminal just to the left of the door and get it open. Whilst he did so, he explained why exactly they were here. Apparently one of theirs had left something valuable here when they had been attacked; a prototype of some sort. It was their job to retrieve it. And take out as many synths as possible whilst they did so, of course. MacCready supposed it was a simple enough mission.

 

"Cheery place, huh?" Deacon muttered as they wandered further into the Switchboard. There was a note of sadness in his voice. When they came upon the first corpse, he stood aside, saying nothing as Nate did what he always did; taking anything worth taking from the body. Despite his silence, MacCready got the idea that this was someone Deacon knew, and what Nate was doing was making him uncomfortable. _Well, it's not like they're using that stuff anymore_ , he thought to himself. He couldn't help but think about if it were him in that situation. The thought of some stranger taking his stuff... yeah, he didn't like it, but at the end of the day...

He shook his head, trying to rid himself of his own morbid thoughts, and moved on.

Shortly after that, they encountered the first synths. MacCready had been unlucky enough to fight a few of them before, but never up close and personal and never in large numbers. And yeah, they kinda freaked him out. Nate was hacking away at them as usual, his blade finding gaps in their plastic bodies, cutting wires and damaging circuitry. MacCready wasn't even sure if his usual tactics were employable- would a shot to the head kill a robot? He tried, and quickly found out that yes, it did. This reassured him somewhat, and he lapsed into easy habit. Feeling Deacon's eyes on him, he decided to show off a little, flitting between targets, knocking them down one by one with the casual grace that came with twelve years' experience. Nate seemed to be doing fine with his combatants, so MacCready focused on the ones coming from further in, hitting them before they had the chance to begin an attack. Before long, they had cleared the immediate vicinity, and were able to stop and take a breath.

"Wow. You weren't kidding." Deacon commented. MacCready raised an eyebrow at him, pretending the praise didn't make him glow inside. "You can really shoot."

"What, that?" MacCready made a dismissive noise. "That was easy. Those things are slow."

Nate chuckled, sheathing his sword. "And so modest, too."

"You can talk."

"Mm. Fair point. Shall we?"

They continued much the same as they had. There were a few turrets, and a few traps, but nothing to pose too much danger. Every now and then they would come across another one of Deacon's ex colleagues, a sobering reminder of what this place used to be. MacCready wondered what it had been like before it had been hit. What the Railroad itself might have been like. Would these tunnels have been full of people? Plans and blueprints tacked up on the walls? Heavy with the murmur of voices and the bustle of busy agents? That was how MacCready imagined it to be. Of course he also imagined stockpiles of advanced weaponry and disguises worthy of a secret organisation, and he did doubt just how accurate that particular idea was.

At one point, Nate, clearly not quite paying attention, set off a whole corridor full of cryo mines, prompting MacCready in a moment of blind panic to pull him to the floor. He braced himself against the shrapnel and the flash of cold that lashed across his back, so intense that it burned. The explosion left his ears ringing. Underneath him, Nate looked somewhat bewildered, and for a moment they stayed like that, both somewhat shocked. Then, through the muffled ringing in his ears MacCready heard himself calling Nate a dumb idiot, and heard Nate's sheepish apology.

"Woah, are you two alright?" Deacon, who was a short way away when the mines went off, rushed over to help them up. "What happened?"

"Cryo mines." MacCready responded, getting off Nate and banging the side of his head a few times, trying in vain to get the ringing to stop. He felt himself shivering a little, his armour having absorbed the brunt of the explosion and now radiating cold.

"Thanks. I... should have noticed those."

"Yeah, you should have." MacCready hit him lightly on the shoulder. "Don't do it again."

"Well, good news is I think I found the prototype. It's in the room just around the corner."

"Does that mean we can get out of here now?"

"Yup. Come on."

Grabbing the prototype, a strange object with too many dials and buttons for MacCready's liking, they left the Switchboard by the door at the end of the corridor Nate had... cleared. Sure enough, the passage came out behind a set of shelves in a basement. Above them, heavy footsteps and gratingly mechanical voices signalled more synths waiting for them.

"Those things are not made for stealth, are they?" Deacon muttered, readying his gun. MacCready grunted agreement.

"So what's our best plan? Just pop out of the ground and start shooting?"

"Well I don't really want to do that, but it'd take us a while to go all the way to the back door again, and without seeing exactly what's up there I couldn't tell you if we could sneak it." He looked at Nate. "And don't forget, the ground out there is supposedly covered in mines. Don't go running around like a madman." Nate at least had the decency to look mildly sheepish.

"Got it."

"Alright." Deacon nodded once. "Let's just do this already."

 

Nate insisted that he go first, so he ascended the ladder, lifting the door slightly to see what was going on. The fact that he didn't immediately shut it again seemed a fairly good sign, so as he climbed up through the exit, MacCready made to follow him. As it turned out, the exit came up behind a countertop, and he was met with Nate motioning for him to stay low to the ground. The sounds of mechanical voices and whirring robotics surrounded them. MacCready moved out of the way of the trapdoor, taking place beside Nate as Deacon made his way up. Nate leaned in, his breath warm on the side of MacCready's face.

"There's a lot. I count about ten, maybe more. Plus two turrets in the windows." He whispered, his voice barely audible. MacCready nodded. Deacon didn't need to be told to stay down; he clearly preferred a stealthy approach, and adopted it immediately. Nate beckoned him over, and he joined them.

"Okay. As soon as they see us, all hell is going to break loose. RJ, I want you to take out the turrets and as many mines as you can see. I'll keep the synths occupied while you do that. Deacon, cover me. Got it?"

Both of them nodded. Nate gave MacCready a kiss on the cheek and readied his sword.

"What, no kiss for me?" Deacon murmured. Nate gave a hushed laugh, then took a breath and stood, tearing off to one side, making a suitable amount of noise as he did so. As he predicted, the burned out café exploded into sound and movement, the air filling with blue strobe and ozone. Deacon followed shortly afterwards, and MacCready leaned out from behind the counter. For a moment he watched Nate fighting off four synths as they attempted to batter him into submission with their laser rifles, then he snapped out of it and focused on the task ahead of him, taking out the turrets sat by the windows. They exploded in flames, the rattle of bullet fire leaving the cacophony. Fortunately, the synths were suitably preoccupied by the very loud, very destructive distraction in front of them, so they didn't try to investigate the source of the fire. Deacon didn't appear to be under as much fire as Nate was, but he was still holding his own, trying his best to keep them from overwhelming Nate. MacCready's keen eyes surveyed the area outside the café. It was dark out, which made his job easier; the little orange lights that signalled an active mine stood out against the black landscape. That darkness was washed away for a brief moment as the night was lit up with an explosion. MacCready squinted against the onslaught of light and heat, letting his eyes adjust once more to the low light before aiming for another.

After a couple of minutes of this, the commotion died down, the last synth powering down with a crackling sound, like a speaker malfunction. Nate drew in a breath in the following silence, the slight shing of metal against metal indicating he had sheathed his sword. MacCready stood, and saw Nate jabbing a needle into the side of his neck, sighing as several angry red burns healed.

"Well. That was fun."

"That's your definition of fun?" Deacon commented. "Well, I suppose that explains the scars."

"I think I took out most of the mines." MacCready joined them, his rifle over his shoulder once more. "I reckon it's relatively safe out there, but we should still keep an eye out."

"Good job." Nate smiled at him. "Right. Let's finish the job then, shall we? Back to HQ?"

"Yeah. I'll have to introduce you two to everyone. Oh, and a warning ahead of time: don't expect any thanks from Carrington."

 

Deacon was right. Whilst most of the members of the Railroad HQ were generally warm and receptive, even a little in awe of the pair of them (probably the fault of Deacon, who as it turned out had a penchant for exaggerating certain aspects of their story), Carrington regarded them with a sneer and a snide remark. MacCready took an instant disliking to him.

Their companion explained to them that the after the Switchboard had been taken, they had been forced to relocate at a moment's notice, which explained the messy, cramped feel of the place. The underground crypt was divided up into sections using furniture; desks, shelves and the like. In the centre of the room was a large, round table which Desdemona was stood over, leaving through some papers and occasionally scribbling something down on one of them. Whilst Nate was pulled off to one side to discuss the progress on decoding the Courser chip with Tinker Tom, a jittery guy who looked like he'd taken a few too many hits of jet, MacCready used the time to clean his rifle. Not that he didn't care, but the man was spouting all sorts of sciency crap and MacCready had neither the patience nor the brainpower to attempt to keep up. It was easier to strip off the heavy armour and get back to a familiar, comforting action. He lit a cigarette as he did so, earning himself a dirty look from Carrington, which he pointedly ignored.

"Looks like I'm going back to the Glowing Sea." Nate commented with a sigh, running his fingers with his hair. MacCready looked up from what he was doing, silent for a moment. Then he took the cigarette from between his lips.

"I'm going with you."

"RJ, we talked about this."

"I don't care."

Nate seemed to take a breath, holding up a hand. "I don't want you getting sick or injured or worse, which you would without protection, and it would take too long to get the materials together to get you a suit of power armour like mine."

MacCready felt a spark of anger in his chest. "Oh, so you're allowed to keep me at home because you're worried about me, but it's okay for you to go running off into danger even when I don't want you to?" MacCready laid his gun and his tools down, giving Nate his full attention. "What makes that okay?"

Nate held up a hand, fingers clenching into a fist for a moment before straightening again. "You know I have to do this." He spoke in a quiet, measured tone.

MacCready stood up, the spark quickly growing and burning hot. "But why do you have to do it without me?" Nate almost stepped back a bit, a move which only served to inflame him further. The redhead glanced around at the people whose attentions were quickly being drawn by their voices.

"RJ, I don't think now is the time-"

"You promised we'd talk. You said we'd talk when we were out of there."

"Alright. Fine. But not here, okay?"

"Fine." MacCready grabbed his wrist and practically dragged him to the exit, ignoring the not-so-subtle looks of the other agents. He took him out into the tunnels, the wall sliding back into place behind them, leaving them in silence. "Alright. We're alone. Can I talk now?"

"I know what this is about but you can't ask me not to-"

"I am not asking you to give up!" MacCready interrupted, frustration adding fuel to the fire.

"You're asking me to-"

"Let me finish, goddamn it!" He held his ground, glaring at Nate, who was looking bewildered and a little upset. He didn't try to speak again. "Thank you. All I'm asking is that you stop _babying_ me! You're my boyfriend, not my dad, so stop treating me like a fuc- a freaking child! I get that you don't want to lose me, but I don't want to lose you either, and I watch you run into stupid, dangerous situations day after day without a single thought for what would happen to me if you died! And then you have the _audacity_ to tell me I can't follow you into the Sea because it's too dangerous! One of these days-" He gasped in a breath, trying to compose himself. "One of these days you're going to- to run off into one of these situations, pit yourself against stupid odds all on your own and you're not going to walk away from it. I mean, look at yourself! What is it going to take for you to realise you have a problem?"

Nate's eyes widened slightly. He looked... hurt?

_Good_. The petty voice in the back of his head stated.

"And... And what about me? What happens to me then?" His fingers flexed, restless. "You know that, that feeling you get? When you think about me dying?" Something in his head told him he was dangerously close to going too far, but he ignored it. "Yeah, you know it. When that Courser was about to snap my neck. You felt it then. What about when your _wife_ was _shot_ in front of you?" Nate winced, like MacCready's words were physically painful to him. "That feeling. I..." He blinked, feeling an all too familiar burn in his eyes. "I get that too. Okay? And it hurts, doesn't it? It hurts like... like... I don't know." His mind was flushed with the memory of blind panic, of that sense of pure, inescapable dread that he'd felt running for his life away from that metro tunnel. The shot of adrenaline mixed with ice in his veins when he'd seen Nate unconscious in a pool of his own blood. "I get it too." He finished weakly. The fire in his chest was gone all of a sudden, replaced by heaviness. Nate's expression was no longer something to gloat over. Instead it just made him feel hollow. "I..." He sagged, all the fight gone from him. "I'm sorry."

"No." Nate cleared his throat, frowning a little as he didn't quite meet his eyes. "You're right. I've been so fucking _selfish_."

MacCready was silent. He didn't want to hurt Nate, but at the same time he couldn't find it in himself to disagree.

"I'll... We'll have to stock up on supplies. It might take some time." He drew in a deep, shuddery breath. "I've waited this long. What's a couple weeks more?"

"Thank you." MacCready felt lighter, somehow. He supposed he'd been wanting to say all that for some time, each instance of Nate throwing himself recklessly into the fray or deliberately putting himself between MacCready and the danger building resentment like a pyre in his heart. That comment about going back to the Sea had been the last straw, the match tossed onto the wood. And now it had burnt out, and he felt so much better for it. He just hoped Nate would actually take his words to heart.

"We should go back." MacCready said softly, waiting a moment longer in silence before turning back to reopen the door to HQ. He was stopped by a hand closing around his wrist. Nate pulled him back, placing a hand on his cheek. He leaned in, and MacCready could feel the light brushing of his thumb over his cheekbone, and the steady rhythm of his breathing. There was a moment, a heartbeat of nothing but closeness. MacCready felt the warmth radiating from him, comforted by his presence alone, and when the distance between them closed, his breath left him. Nate's hand was still around his wrist, and he guided it to his chest, where MacCready's fingers grasped at the fabric of his shirt. For a moment, it was just the two of them. Just contact, warmth, and peace. And when it stopped, Nate rested his forehead on MacCready's, his eyes still shut. He was quiet for a moment longer, then he straightened up. His face was solemnly content as his fingers brushed through the hair at the younger man's temple, seeming reluctant to fall back to his side.

"I'm glad you're coming with me." He stated, his voice soft, fond.

"Yeah." MacCready responded, uncharacteristically calm. "So am I."

Nate smiled, and then nodded towards the door. "We should go."

"Yeah. I guess we should."

 


	14. Making Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Of all the places to go back to, why oh why did it have to be there?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow okay so to make up for the last two chapters being a little shorter, this one's a bit longer. I've had a very stressful week (coughcough Cambridge interview), but I've been doing a lot of plotting and thinking regarding this story. Firstly, I doubt anyone's noticed yet but I changed Nate's wife's name. Nate will always be Nathaniel Delaney to me, but after consideration Nora is now Evelyn Mary Delaney, née Addison, known to her friends as Ever. Secondly, I kinda want to do something special for Christmas, but I've got no idea what yet. If anyone has any suggestions, or anything they'd like to see regarding any of the characters in Fallout please tell me.  
> Finally, I noticed that a lot of other authors give personalised responses to each comment. I want you guys to know that I appreciate each and every one of you, so would you like it if I did the same, addressing individually any comments, both appreciative and critical? Let me know. Otherwise, enjoy!

Nate figured that they might as well use the time they had before they left to do something useful. Consequently, the next few days were spent running errands for Desdemona and the other Railroad agents. It turned out that the places they were sent were prime spots for collecting the kind of junk that Nate could somehow turn into useful stuff, and so their time was taken up with lugging large amounts of random crap from place to place, and a lot of walking back and forth between Covenant and HQ. It was dull work; get assigned a location, go there, clear it out, take stuff home, repeat. But it gave them time. Time to think, time to plan, time to spend together. They spent the night at Covenant when they could, since HQ was already crowded, and they wouldn't be able to get any privacy there. MacCready was becoming a lot more confident when it came to being with Nate, and he was sure Nate (and everyone else in Covenant) could tell. It felt good, and every morning, when he woke up to a warm body against his and the soft sound of Nate's breathing in his ear, he felt more secure and comfortable than he had in years. Even when they had to sleep rough, cooped up in half-wrecked buildings or out on the dirt for all to see, Nate's presence made him feel safe. Some of the Railroad agents seemed sceptical of their relationship, stating that it might pose a risk to their performance in the field. MacCready's response to that was to be especially gross and affectionate around them. Nate seemed to find MacCready's behaviour amusing, and was only too happy to entertain him. Before the week was out, everyone in HQ, and even some of the informants they were sent to speak to knew about Charmer and Bullseye, and not to get between them. MacCready found that he liked that sentiment very much.

Before long, they had gathered suitable supplies for Nate to start construction. His suit of armour stood proudly to one side, and a new frame was placed on the workstation. Nate pulled several mismatched, heavily dinged-up pieces from his collection and set to work. The redhead explained to him that he had nearly enough pieces for a full suit of X-01, but he might have to compromise on having one T-60 leg. MacCready stated that he didn't really care as long as it kept the rads off him. Throughout the process, Nate had MacCready climb into the suit so he could make adjustments, fitting it to his height and build. Though Nate's adjustments helped, MacCready quickly found he didn't particularly like the oppressive metal contraption, and didn't relish the idea of spending days, maybe even weeks in it. Still, he had fought for his right to go with Nate, and he wasn't about to quit just because he didn't agree with power armour.

After a couple of days of hard work hammering, welding, painting and oiling, the suit was finished. Nate stood, removing the thick gloves he wore when handling the lead paint, and wiping the sweat and oil grease from his skin.

"Let that last coat dry and I reckon we're good to go."

MacCready looked over the suit. It was almost identical to Nate's, though the paint was shinier and one of the legs was built slightly differently. When MacCready was in it, he would be nearly a foot taller than he was normally, and entirely wrapped in lead-lined steel. It would be heavy, even with the internal matrix assisting his movement, and he would lose a lot of dexterity, making it harder to shoot and dodge attacks. That being said, it would be nigh on impenetrable.

"I think we should set out tomorrow. Tinker Tom's eager to get started. Now that I know my way around we might be able to get there and back in a week, maybe a week and a half."

MacCready looked up at the helmet, which reminded him vaguely of a ram skull. A week and a half spent inside there. He suppressed a tingle of discomfort, turning to Nate.

"Alright. We have enough supplies?"

"I think so. I bought up all the radaway and rad-X Carrington had, and I can tell you that the radiation isn't everywhere. There are some buildings we'll be able to take refuge in to sleep and sort ourselves out. The biggest issue is between those pockets we won't be able to eat or drink unless we get out of the suits, which if we have to do we should only do for short periods, and take rad-X immediately when we do. At the first signs of nausea or dizziness take a radaway. We can't afford to slow down because of radiation sickness, because it'll only get worse if we do."

MacCready wrinkled his nose. "You're really selling the trip."

"Hey, you were the one who insisted upon coming with." Nate raised an eyebrow at him. "There's still time to back out."

"No." The merc spoke sharply.

"Alright. If you're sure." He stepped closer, his hand on MacCready's hip as he tilted his head up for a kiss. He smelled of power armour grease. "It's not going to be fun."

"It's not meant to be." The merc wiped a black smudge from his cheek. "It's meant to be me making sure you don't do anything too stupid."

"I'm not an idiot."

"You can be and we both know it." He kissed Nate again, then stepped back. "Am I allowed to wear my jacket this time?"

Nate chuckled. "Yes, you're allowed to wear it. Why are you so attached to that thing anyway? It's half torn to shit."

MacCready glared at him. "It has sentimental value."

"RJ, one of the sleeves is missing. A whole sleeve."

"It got torn in a fight."

Nate gave him a look. "An enemy took the time to tear the whole sleeve off. Not just to rip it, to actually tear it off."

MacCready sighed heavily, blushing a little. "Okay fine. I set fire to it. Happy?"

Nate laughed, and MacCready hit him on the shoulder.

"Shut up."

"Sorry, sorry." He grinned at the younger man. "It's just... imagining it is funny."

"Uh huh." The merc glared at him.

"Aw, don't look at me like that."

MacCready held the look for a moment longer, then relented.

"What about this?" Nate tapped the brim of his hat. "I get the point of the bullets around your leg, though most people wear them around their waist. But only two? That's not gonna get you far. Fashion choice?" MacCready's eyes widened slightly, and he put a hand up to the two bullets he kept in the band of his hat. There was a twist in his gut, and he shook his head, not quite meeting Nate's eyes. The redhead looked perplexed at his boyfriend's reaction.

"I started wearing them after... after I lost Lucy. If she hadn't done what she did, we wouldn't have made it out of there. So after that I always kept two bullets close at hand, apart from the rest so I wouldn't use them accidentally. For emergencies."

"For-?" Nate began to ask, then he stopped. "Oh."

"Yeah." MacCready laughed humourlessly. "Better than getting eaten alive, right?"

Nate was silent for a moment, then he sighed. "Sorry."

"No, it's okay." He half-smiled. "Haven't had to use them yet."

"And you never will. Not if I have anything to say about it." Nate said determinedly.

"Yeah."

 

Later, after cleaning up and bundling together enough supplies to last them two weeks, they retired to one last night in a soft bed. Their evening was all soft words and soft touches, Nate making sure MacCready wouldn't be compromised the next day as a result of his actions. Nate wasn't usually rough, as such, but the gentle brushes of his fingertips over MacCready's skin and the open-mouthed kisses as the younger man sat astride him were different to his usual playful dominance. And when MacCready came, it wasn't with screaming intensity, but gasping words of tenderness and desire as his breath was chased from his chest. Afterwards, cleaned up but still sweaty and lightheaded, he settled down against Nate's chest, his lover's arms resting around his middle.

"Can I?" MacCready asked, nodding to half a pack of cigarettes sat on the bedside drawers. Nate made an assenting noise, and MacCready moved from his position briefly to light one. Leaning back, he closed his eyes, enjoying the lazy bliss that permeated his being, and the heavy taste of the smoke on his tongue. This... this was something he could get used to.

"RJ..." Nate spoke in a pleasantly sleepy voice.

"Mm?"

"Would you have ever thought we'd end up like this?"

MacCready took a drag on his cigarette, thinking back to when he had first met Nate, and what he had thought of him. "Nope."

Nate hummed a laugh. "Me neither." He pressed a kiss to MacCready's neck, just below his ear. "Didn't take me long to fall for you though."

The merc felt his lips quirk into a smile. "Oh yeah?"

"Mm. I think it was Kingsport that did it for me."

"The deathclaws?"

"After the deathclaws. When I woke up and everything hurt, and your face was the only thing I could see. That was when I realised I was in love with you."

"Sap." MacCready accused him, a warm glow in his chest. "So why didn't you say anything?"

"I thought about it. I almost did. But... I don't know. I didn't want to scare you off. For all I knew, you were straight as an arrow and would find it weird that I had feelings for you."

"Could've saved me a lot of trouble." MacCready groused. "Do you know how many nights I spent lying awake, confused and horny because of you?"

Nate laughed again, the sound rich and warm. "Worth it though. The look on your face when you told me..." MacCready hit his arm lightly, and he chuckled. "And when I pinned you against the door. Memories to treasure forever."

"I'm sure." The merc grumbled, his cheeks slightly flushed.

His lover sighed, nuzzling the side of his neck gently. "You'll stay with me, won't you? I don't ever want to lose this."

"As long as I can, yeah." He breathed in another lungful of smoke, frowning a little. "Where'd all this come from?"

"I don't know. I've been known to get disgustingly affectionate during pillow talk."

"Not saying I don't like it." He leaned his head back, looking up at Nate to the best of his ability. "I don't know what I did to deserve you."

"I don't believe in karma."

"I kinda do. Or, well, I believe if you piss off enough people you can't avoid trouble for long." He felt Nate's laugh.

"That makes sense."

 

Later, once MacCready had stubbed out his cigarette and both of them were struggling to keep their eyes open, they finally settled down to sleep. The younger man was happy to make himself comfortable, but he couldn't have been there for more than a couple of minutes before he felt Nate's arm around his waist, and the brush of lips on the back of his neck. And it was like that that they fell asleep.

 

The morning came too soon, in MacCready's opinion. He was woken up by the sounds of someone up and moving around the room. Still half asleep, and with the light leaking through the windows causing his mind to shrink away from consciousness, the first thing he registered was that the warmth usually at his side when he woke was missing. Opening his eyes and squinting against the morning daylight, he saw Nate, already half dressed and trying to cram things into an already full pack. The merc drew a deep breath, rolling into his back and pushing himself up. Nate looked up from what he was doing, smiling at his disgruntled and drowsy lover.

"Morning."

"You didn't wake me up." MacCready stated bluntly.

"Sorry. I didn't want to disturb you, looking all adorable like that." He grinned. "You know, it's one of the few times I get to see you without that expression on your face."

"What expression?" MacCready asked, narrowing his eyes at the redhead.

"That exact one. Like the whole world exists only to piss you off." MacCready gave him his best 'glaring daggers' look, only to have him burst into laughter, earning himself a pillow to the face. "Hey. You don't want to start something, I swear to you." He warned, holding the offending pillow up.

"Bite me." MacCready snapped, feeling a small smile escape despite himself. Nate was on him a split second later, his lips against the younger man's throat.

"Is that an invitation?" He nipped playfully at the spot, and MacCready pushed him off, flipping them over. His hands caught the redhead's wrists, and as he held him down, the older man gave him an amused and mildly seductive look. "Oh, RJ. I didn't know you were into this."

MacCready felt himself blush, and he let go, climbing off the smirking man. "I hate you."

Nate chuckled, pushing himself up. "Love you too, babe." He got up again, and began looking for a shirt. "As much as I'd love to stay here and be handcuffed to a bed by you, we have a job to do."

MacCready tried to dispel the mental images that left him with, focusing instead on finding his own clothes. "Right. Glowing Sea. Yeah."

"I packed the last few bits and pieces whilst you were asleep, so we can get moving pretty much as soon as we get dressed."

"Bit eager, aren't we?"

"Well, it is kind of a big deal."

MacCready glanced over at his lover, who was tying back his overlong fringe once more, having found a relatively un-bloodied shirt which he'd pulled on.

"Can I at least eat something before I get in that stupid suit of armour?"

"Hey." After several failed attempts at tucking some loose hair into the ponytail, he fished around in his pocket and pulled out one of the many bobby pins he kept on his person. "That stupid suit of armour is going to save your life."

"Which is why I agreed to wear it in the first place. Doesn't mean I like it." He buckled his belt, making sure all its attachments were firmly in place. "Is your hair getting longer?"

"Yes. That's what hair tends to do when you don't cut it." MacCready gave him a look, and he grinned back. "Honestly I've gotten so used to it, I feel like cutting it off would feel wrong."

"Are you gonna grow it out then?"

"What, like properly? Nah. Definitely not longer than..." He made a hand motion that indicated roughly chin level. "About there-ish? Can you imagine trying to keep it clean?" Grimacing, he slung his sword at his hip.

"Fair point."

 

After a quick breakfast, they prepared to leave. Nate hopped into his armour easily, clearly practiced. MacCready took one last deep breath of fresh air, then climbed into his own. The hiss of metal components sliding into place surrounded him, and he curled and uncurled his fingers, trying to get used to the bulky frame.

"All good?" He heard Nate's voice as though over a radio. He almost jumped.

"Did you put in built in walkie talkies or something?"

"Just a basic radio transmitter. Just in case."

"Huh." Of course he did. Any chance to show off his freaky technical know-how.

"Good to go then?"

"Yeah, sure. Let's get this over with."

Even though he couldn't see Nate's face under the helmet, he could hear the smile in his voice. "That's the spirit." MacCready rolled his eyes.

 

It took the merc some time to get used to the suit. Traipsing through the Commonwealth didn't provide much of a challenge, but even so having to account for his extra mass was leaving him clumsy and uncoordinated. Not only that, but the weight on his limbs was putting a manageable but continuous strain on his muscles that was sure to take its toll later. Fortunately, they were able to stop at several points during their journey, and indeed Nate was eager to make the most of it whilst they could. On their first night, they camped in the remains of an old school. It was a spot Nate had been to before, so he knew it was relatively safe. MacCready lit a fire whilst Nate got out their bedrolls and the night's rations, and they ate and slept in relative peace. The following morning, as predicted, MacCready was sore all over. It was especially bad in his legs and shoulders, but he didn't complain as they packed up their stuff and moved on.

They reached the edge of the glowing sea at mid afternoon on the second day. The last time MacCready had been this far south, he had taken a very, _very_ long detour around the blasted hellscape that had been the site of the Boston explosion. Now, through the only mildly tinted visor of the armour, he could see the unnatural stillness and malevolent haze that hung over the land before them.

"There it is." came Nate's solemn voice from the radio. "The Glowing Sea. Honestly, first time I came here I thought there would be more water." They were both quiet for a moment, then Nate's armour clanked as he stood up straight. "Well. I guess it's time to do this song and dance again. Keep an eye on your Geiger counter, and keep your gun ready."

MacCready's eye flickered to one of the many dials present on the armour's visor. Already, the little needle was twitching, not quite on one, but not sitting comfortably on zero either. He ran his tongue over his lower lip, his mouth suddenly dry. "Alright. Let's go."

It was the stillness that was getting to him the most. There were no plants to wave in the breeze, if there was a breeze at all. Neither were there any signs of smaller animals; insects, rodents, birds or anything. Even the large, nasty ones were few and far between. Everything in the Glowing Sea was a predator, and if you weren't the biggest, meanest predator around you wouldn't survive. Which meant that for miles around in every direction, there was nothing. The first structure they came across was a wreck, nothing but bare framework, warped and blasted. MacCready's Geiger counter had picked up its pace, and in the depths of the wreck he could see a pair of huge scorpions, which seemed to be wrestling each other for the half-rotted corpse of a feral ghoul. He gulped air and turned to Nate. To his horror, the man was drawing his sword, the weapon looking strange in the hand of the suit of armour.

" _Nate_ ," He hissed. "What are you doing?"

"They're dangerous."

" _Exactly_."

"But-"

"They haven't noticed us yet. Let's get out of here before they do."

One of the radscorpions lashed out with its tail, causing the other to squeal and shrink back. Nate sheathed his sword. "Fine, but if they chase us it's on you."

Fortunately for both of them, the scorpions seemed too preoccupied to notice them, and they were able to continue onwards. Before too long, the sun was setting.

"Uh, Nate? I don't want to be walking around in the dark in this place."

The redhead stopped for a moment, thinking. "There is somewhere we can take all this off, but it'll take us out of our way a fair amount."

"How far out?"

"About an hour that way." He pointed away to the left.

"And where are we headed?" He pointed ahead and slightly to the right. "Okay." He weighed up the options in his head, then nodded. "Let's head to this place then. I need a break."

It was true. As they were walking, he felt the strains of the day catching up on him. He was starving, and his head hurt from dehydration. This, coupled with the soreness in his muscles and the beginnings of radiation sickness seeping into his veins was making him feel lightheaded and mildly nauseous. He'd need a radaway when they reached their destination, as well as a meal and a lot of water.

The place Nate was talking about turned out to be a pyramid. MacCready squinted when he saw it on the horizon, for a moment wondering if he was hallucinating. He'd read about pyramids in books, but never thought he'd see one himself. Except as they got closer, he realised it was a lot newer than the ones he'd read about. Smooth-sided and sporting a large, clearly very tightly sealed door, it was intimidating, to say the least.

"What is this place?" He asked in awe.

"Old military facility." Nate replied. MacCready glanced over at him.

"You know about this place from pre-war?"

"What?" Nate seemed surprised. Then he laughed. "Oh, God no. I would never have been let anywhere near here. This is the kind of place you needed maximum security clearance to get in. I was little more than a lapdog."

That only made MacCready more intrigued by the site. "We can get in?"

"Sure we can. Hancock and I cleared it out last time we were here." He approached the huge metal door. It made a horrible sound as it opened, a grating squeal that left MacCready wincing as the noise assaulted him. Inside the structure was darkness. He followed Nate inside, and the other pushed the door shut once more. Once it was sealed, the last echoes of the sound died away and they were left in silence. MacCready felt a shiver down his spine as he switched his armour's headlamp on. Ahead of him, he could see concrete floor and a rail. Beyond the rail, only darkness.

"That's alright. Wasn't planning on sleeping tonight anyway." He muttered under his breath, and heard Nate's soft laugh through the radio.

"It's safe. I promise."

"I'm sure." The merc moved forward slowly, his headlamp cutting swaths through the dark. Off to one side, a floor or two below them was a soft red light. He approached the rail, and looked over the edge, not daring to lean on the rusted metal. He couldn't see the bottom. Bending down as best as he could in the suit, he picked up a loose stone from the floor and dropped it over the edge. It clattered loudly a few seconds later. MacCready stepped back from the ledge. Behind him, he heard the hiss of Nate climbing out of his armour.

"What's down there?"

"Huh?" The redhead had left the headlamp of the armour on, and his features were cast in an almost ghostly fashion in the light. "Oh, some old military barracks. Storage facilities, that sort of thing."

"Why was it so secret then?"

"They kept bombs here." Nate began unpacking their stuff, looking right at home. MacCready glanced back down into the blackness apprehensively.

"Bombs? How do we know there aren't still some down there?"

"After two hundred years? Any bombs that are down there aren't going off any time soon. Not without reason." He unrolled their bedrolls next to each other and sat on his, back to the wall. "Now come on. I'm sure you're starving, so let's eat something."

MacCready suppressed another shiver, then turned his back on the dark and joined Nate, positioning his armour so it stood on the other side of their little camp, providing a little more light. The air inside the pyramid was stale and cold, and felt dry in the back of his throat. He felt goosebumps breaking out on his arms. Nate watched him as he sat at his side, hunching over slightly against the cool air.

"Here." The older man passed him a plastic baggie full of brownish-orange liquid. "You look like you need it." MacCready took the radaway, tearing it open with a shaking hand and squeezing the medicine into his mouth. Its overly chemical, bitter sweetness made him wrinkle his nose in distaste, but almost immediately, he felt his stomach settle and his shaking subside. Nate tore into one too, and in the low light MacCready could see weariness on his features, loose hair clinging to his damp forehead. Clearly he'd been suffering the first onslaught of radiation sickness too.

They ate quickly and silently, too focused on filling their empty stomachs to talk. They drank three of their cans of purified water between them. And afterwards, MacCready felt almost alright again, exhaustion tugging at the edges of his mind. He tucked his arms close against his body, trying to keep warm. Nate seemed to notice this, and sighed softly. "Come here." He held his arms out. MacCready was still for a moment, then moved so that he lay in Nate's arms, curling close to his lover's chest. Nate's warmth was welcome, and as he rested his head on the other man's shoulder, he felt himself relaxing. The redhead took his hat off as he closed his eyes, kissing his forehead. It didn't take long before his consciousness blurred. Nate's breathing was soft and rhythmic, and his arms were so warm, and he was so, so tired...

At some point, he was briefly pulled into consciousness as Nate moved to lay them both down, and he made a soft sound of displeasure as his source of warmth was taken from him, until Nate lay beside him, pulling him against his chest once more. Then he was out like a light.

 

He had no idea how long he slept. When he woke up, it was just as dark as it had been when he went to sleep. He'd been dreaming about something, but whatever it was, it was fading from his mind fast. Nate was snoring, at some point during the night having found his way into the bedroll and now almost completely enveloped in it. Not wanting to disturb him, MacCready got into his own, pulling the sleeping bag around himself in an attempt to stay warm. He closed his eyes once more, and drifted, lost in thought. He wondered what Virgil would be like, and how he lived out in these wastes. The man must be some sort of deranged hermit. A hermit who somehow had inside information about the Institute. Those were not a set of facts that made for a trustworthy character, in his book.

He was snapped out of his musings when Nate shifted, his snoring stopping. MacCready rolled over, facing him. There was a moment more of quiet, then the redhead shifted, opening his eyes.

"'S it morning yet?" He asked, his voice croaky.

"No idea." MacCready answered truthfully. Nate huffed, then extracted his arm from his sleeping bag, pipboy glowing softly. He swore softly under his breath. "What?"

"We overslept. It's nearly noon." He unzipped his bag, climbing out. "I hate to say it, but we need to get going." MacCready sighed, then sat up, stretching. He was still sore, but by now he was used to it.

It didn't take them long to be ready to go; after going through the morning motions they packed up their things, ready to head off once more. Nate strapped their stuff to his suit as MacCready climbed back into his, appreciating for once the stuffy warmth inside. When the door was pushed open, the sudden brightness of daylight made MacCready shrink back slightly, squinting through his visor. Almost immediately his Geiger counter was awake, clicking softly at him.

"We might have to come back here on our way back." Nate's voice was still faintly hoarse, and he cleared his throat. "There are other buildings around but this is the only one with the lead lined door that I trust to keep the radiation out."

MacCready nodded. "How far is it to Virgil's?"

"Three hours, give or take. We should be able to make it there and back before nightfall. If we can manage that, we're ahead of schedule."

That was welcome news. And their luck seemed to continue, as the most danger they encountered was a group of stingwings, who, monstrous as they were, couldn't penetrate the pair's armour, try as they might. MacCready thought his might have some dents in it though. Once or twice they found themselves walking through a patch of land which sent their Geiger counters haywire, but they moved through those spots as quickly as possible and seemed to come out okay. As unpleasant as it was, MacCready got used to the constant feeling of sickness, though the waves of dizziness did worry him. If he and Nate were made to fight something dangerous, it would be a liability. But Nate's estimate seemed to be more or less correct, because a few hours later he called out to his partner.

"RJ. Over here." He beckoned him over. The merc did as he was told, jumping down from the rock he was standing on to join Nate in front of an outcropping. The older man was pointing at the mouth of a cave in the rock face.

"He lives in there?" Crazy hermit indeed.

"Yup. Gun down. He doesn't take kindly to weapons."

MacCready hesitated, then lowered his rifle. "Alright. Let's meet this guy."

 

Inside the cave, there was a whirring sound. It was a sound MacCready recognised, and it took a fair amount of willpower not to take up arms. Fortunately, though the spotlights did follow them as they walked through the cave, the turrets did not start shooting. The second thing MacCready noticed was the smell. It was the smell of decay, of rot. It smelled like...

"Oh Jesus fu- shi- uh..." he was unable to finish the curse as he came face to face with a super mutant. The thing growled as he fumbled for his gun.

"Woah! Slow down. RJ, this is Virgil. Virgil, this is my partner, RJ MacCready. Try not to kill each other please." MacCready froze, wondering if he'd heard Nate correctly. This... Virgil was a super mutant? That was a detail the redhead had sorely neglected.

"You came back." The monster- Virgil- stated in a deep, unfriendly tone.

"Yeah. I got the chip."

Virgil's eyes- behind pathetically small reading glasses- widened. "You did, did you? I'm impressed."

"Thanks."

"I suppose that means all this work hasn't been for nothing." The super mutant turned, and walked into what looked like a makeshift study. When he returned, he was carrying a piece of paper. "You don't know how frustrating it is." He growled. "Trying to get the done with hands like these."

"I'll get you your cure, don't worry." Nate took the paper, looking over it. "And this will get me there?"

"Should do. I'm no physicist, but I got to look at the molecular relay a few times whilst I was there."

Nate nodded, then slipped the paper into his pack. "And I'm supposed to look for your cure...?"

"In the FEV labs. They're sealed off at the back of the Bio labs, but you should still be able to get in."

"Okay. Thank you."

"If I might ask, how are you planning on cracking the code on the chip?"

"I've made some friends." Nate stated ambiguously.

"Hmph." Virgil made a derisive noise. "I suppose as long as you keep your end of the bargain you can have your secrets. If you don't come back I'll assume the relay vapourised you."

MacCready did a double take. "Wait, what? Is that thing safe?"

"Like I said. I'm not a physicist."

 _You've got to be fucking kidding me._ He thought.

"Don't worry. We'll make it work." Nate said in a low voice. "Promise."

MacCready fought the urge to argue, realising now was not the time. "Alright. Whatever. Is that all?"

"Yeah." Nate nodded politely in Virgil's direction. "See you around."

The super mutant grunted disdainfully. "Good luck. You'll need it."

 

"Did you know about this?" MacCready asked, no longer able to hold it in after they had left Virgil and his cave behind.

"About what?"

"About how dangerous this would be?"

"Not... Not explicitly. I knew there would be risks entailed but I didn't know what risks."

"Are you still gonna go through with it?" If his Geiger counter wasn't berating him obnoxiously he would have stopped Nate. "You promised me. You told me you'd stop doing stupidly reckless things. Jesus, Nate it's been three days! Does it really take that little time for you to forget a promise you made to me?"

Nate didn't stop. Didn't turn to look at him. He didn't even answer, not straight away. MacCready hoped that meant he was ashamed of himself.

"If that cure had been in the Institute," he finally spoke, his tone soft, "If using this relay was the only way to save Duncan's life, you'd do it, right?"

"I-" MacCready started, then stopped. He hated what Nate was saying, because the answer was yes. A thousand times yes. He didn't even need to think about it. Ahead of him, Nate nodded.

"See? I have to try. Because my son... I need to save him. And that's worth the risk."

MacCready was quiet. "So you're gonna get Tom to try and build that then?"

"I'm gonna help, but yeah. If he can."

 _He's gonna go running off into places you can't follow him and you're gonna watch him go and hate him for it_. Hancock's words came into his thoughts, the truth of them suddenly painful. _You'd better come back to me, idiot_.

 

Their journey back went much the same way as the journey to the cave. They did end up having to fight a radscorpion, which managed to punch a hole in Nate's armour. The damage was minimal, but it let the radiation in, so Nate was forced to start taking their supplies of rad-X and radaway at a more rapid rate. They spent another night in the pyramid, and on the fourth day of their travel they made it back to the edge of the Glowing Sea. Needless to say, from there it was easy, and both of them were glad to be away from that place. Nate insisted that they stop at HQ to drop off the plans before they returned to Covenant.

As soon as they were through the door, Drummer Boy was there to greet them.

"Hey. Good trip?"

"About as good as the Glowing Sea can be." MacCready responded.

"Great. Des wants to speak to you when you get the chance."

"Okay. Thanks. I've got something to give Tom first." Nate responded as he removed his helmet. MacCready copied him, glad to be breathing fresh air. "Tom! Hey!"

"'Sup, man!" Tom responded, his eyes flicking rapidly between the pair of them, looking as jittery as ever. "You survived! Props, man. Mad props."

"What, you thought we wouldn't come back?" Nate grinned at him. "I got you a present." He pulled the blueprint from their pack, and handed it over. Tom took it, looked over it and frowned.

"What- what is this? Was it drawn by a child? With a crayon?" He squinted at it. "Wait... wait a second. I gotcha. Wow, this is like, properly scientific stuff. This is crazy." He looked up. "This is how they've been getting in and out?"

"Apparently."

"Shit." The inventor's face lit up, like a kid presented with a new toy. "Lemme have a look. I'll get this figured out for you no problem. I'm gonna need time though."

"That's alright. You know where to find me."

"Uh huh. Uh huh." He retreated to his table, brushing aside scraps of paper and random bits of metal and laying it down.

"We should probably leave him to it." Nate turned to MacCready once more. The merc nodded, seeing that Tinker Tom was fully absorbed in his new project.

"Should we see what Des wants then?"

"Yeah."

Desdemona was in her usual spot at the head of the table, talking tactics with Deacon. At their approach, Deacon raised an eyebrow from behind his glasses.

"Woah. Nice armour. And, uh, how are you finding moving around in that?"

"A pain." MacCready responded, and Deacon nodded, like that was the answer he was expecting.

"Charmer. Bullseye." Desdemona acknowledged them. "I have something to ask you. Specifically," she nodded in MacCready's direction. "You."

"What? Me?" MacCready was taken aback by this. Usually his charismatic enigma of a boyfriend was the one drawing the attention.

"Yes. You come from the Capital Wasteland, correct?"

"Uh, yeah."

"Then you're probably the most qualified to make this decision. We need to know what kind of a threat the Brotherhood of Steel pose to the Commonwealth."

"The Brotherhood?"

"Yes. Surely you've noticed the airship that they appear to have parked over the old airport."

"Yeah, it'd be kind of difficult not to."

"So? What can you tell us about them?"

"That they're a bunch of self righteous assho- idiots." MacCready cast his thoughts back to- what was it, ten years ago? Something like that. "They're all about preserving humanity 'as it should be'. That means ghouls, super mutants, that kind of thing, they need to go. And they confiscate a lot of tech, supposedly to stop it being misused." He grimaced. "They came to my town once. Tried to get us to join their cause, or whatever. I told them to fu- to walk away."

"Mm. That makes sense." Desdemona mused. "The threat of the Institute seems like exactly the kind of thing that would ruffle their feathers."

"I've heard they're hunting synths. Executing them whenever they can." Deacon added. "Almost certainly they're not gonna be happy with us either."

"Right. So we need to know what they're doing. We need a way to get information from the source. And to be able to fix the problem, should it get out of hand."

"Hold on." Nate broke in. "So what you're saying is we need a man on the inside. Someone to join their ranks, work their way up, find out information and, if necessary, eliminate people who might pose a threat." There was a light in his eyes as he said this, an excited glint. He broke into a soft smile. "I just might be able to help you with that."

 


	15. Christmas in Covenant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time to spread a little bit of Christmas cheer, prewar style. These people don't know what they're missing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. Okay so first things first I'm a fucking idiot. I have another chapter saved on my laptop at home, but I'm at my Grandad's for Christmas so I can't actually post it until I go home tomorrow. Fortunately, I wrote this on my phone, so I have it with me. Secondly- yes, this is canon. I haven't yet got a solid plan for where in the timeline it fits, but it will count towards the main plot. Thirdly, merry Christmas to everyone who celebrates it, and happy holidays to everyone who doesn't! Fourthly, this chapter marks the fact that this story is now officially the longest story in the m!sole/MacCready archive (well, with the addition of what I have ready to post at home, anyway) and I think that's something to be proud of. Oh, and should I add tags to this? I don't know if they're necessary but they might help people find it. 
> 
> Lastly, I wrote a solid chunk of this after several glasses of mulled wine. I apologise in advance.

It started on a lazy Tuesday morning. MacCready was flicking through one of their ever-growing collection of comics, and Nate was lying on his back beside him, seemingly lost in thought.

"Hey."

"Mm?" MacCready didn't look up from his comic, where the bad guy was finally revealing the details of his cunning plan.

"What day is it?"

The merc frowned. "Tuesday, I think. Why?"

"No, no. I mean what's the date."

"I don't freaking know. Check your pipboy."

The bed shifted as Nate sat up, reaching for the device on his bedside table. "RJ. It's the seventeenth."

The slight tone of urgency in his voice was enough for the merc to finally pull his attention away. "So? What's so important about the seventeenth?"

"It's more than halfway through the month and we haven't even decorated yet!"

"What?"

Nate's eyes widened, and his expression changed to one of abject horror. "Oh. Oh no. Don't tell me Christmas isn't a thing anymore!"

With that, the pieces finally started to click into place. "Christmas? That old prewar holiday? Oh. Yeah, some people still celebrate, but most of us have better things to worry about." He thought for a moment. "I think some of the Diamond City residents like to decorate the place, if you wanna go there."

"No." Nate frowned, a look of steely determination in his eyes. "I'm doing it properly. Everyone in this town is getting a proper Christmas now that I'm here. Prewar style." He grinned. "Gotta make up for last year, after all."

"Last year?"

"Yeah. I was only a couple months out of the vault, and I hadn't really made any friends yet. Except Dogmeat. Kind of a sucky year. But now I've got you, and Nick, and everyone else here, so we're gonna do it properly."

MacCready was a little apprehensive. "What... what exactly does that entail?"

Nate's smile was full of excitement. "You'll see."

 

At first, he seemed willing enough to do everything himself. He disappeared behind their house to his workbench, and proceeded to spend the morning working hard on something or another. This didn't exactly rouse suspicion, since Nate spent most of his free time at that bench. But still, MacCready was curious. Hours later, however, he approached MacCready for help.

"What... is that?" He stared at the bundle of what seemed to be loose wire studded with tiny light bulbs.

"Lights." Nate smiled. "I think I made enough. I'm gonna need your help putting them up."

"Up where?"

"I'm thinking..." He began to gesture around, pointing at various places and detailing his plans. They set to work, and before long there were lights hanging from the awning of the buildings, the fences and the pylons. MacCready didn’t think they were all that in the daytime, but he imagined that when the sun went down and they lit up the little town, they’d make the place look warm and inviting. The next job, Nate stated, was trees.

“Trees?”

“Trees.” Nate confirmed. “I might have to travel to find good ones. I think I saw some down by the boathouse.”

“Why do we need trees?”

“Christmas trees! Oh come on. This is just depressing. Getting them back here might be difficult.” He thought for a moment. “Do you think the settlers at the boathouse would let me borrow their Brahmin?”

“Probably?” MacCready was still trying to figure out what Nate planned on doing with trees.

“Alright. I’ll be back before nightfall.”

“What?”

“I’ve only got one axe, I’m afraid.”

“Will you please explain to me what is going on?”

Nate stopped, sighing. “I’m going to go get Christmas trees. It’s a tradition. On the lead up to Christmas, you get a tree, and you decorate it. Like, with tinsel and baubles, and you put a star on the top. It’s usually the centrepiece of the room for the Christmas period.”

“Hold on.” MacCready tried to picture what Nate was describing. “You put the tree… indoors?”

“Yup.”

MacCready gave him a look that clearly said _you’re messing with me_. Nate grinned back.

“Just trust me on this, okay?”

“Alright. Whatever.”

And so Nate left, an axe slung on his belt in the place of his sword. As for MacCready, he just sighed, and resolved to go back to his comic. He recovered it, and went to go and sit in one of the worn old armchairs Nate had managed to find to put in the side room of the bar. The radio was crooning one of the usual songs, only mildly staticky, and the smell of whiskey and cigarette smoke hung in the air. Collapsing into the chair, he lit up a cigarette, and opened the comic. He only got a couple of pages in when he was interrupted. He heard a small noise, and looked down to see the town’s elusive resident cat at his ankles.

“Hey Cass.” He wasn’t sure what the skinny little stray’s proper name was, but in his head he’d named her Cassiopeia, after a character from one of the books he used to read as a kid. Some ancient myth- Greek? Roman? He wasn’t sure. When she wasn’t being chased around by Dogmeat, she was hiding under the houses, or out hunting for bloatflies or whatever she did. Sometimes MacCready would leave food out for her. He saw the other residents of the town do the same from time to town, but she seemed to be able to provide for herself well enough. He patted his lap, and she leapt into it, curling up on his knees. He scratched her grey fur as he read, enjoying the company.

 

“You’re looking cosy.” He looked up, somewhat startled by the interruption. Cass had fallen asleep, and he’d finished his cigarette. He hadn’t wanted to get another for fear of disturbing her.

“Hey Piper.”

“What kind of crazy new mission is Blue off on this time?” She sat at the bar, getting herself a Nuka Cherry. “I notice we’ve got some new decorations about town.”

“Yeah. He’s got it in his head that we’ve gotta do Christmas this year.”

“Christmas?” Piper’s eyes lit up. “Aw, yeah! I thought I was gonna have to go back to Diamond City to celebrate. But Nate’s prewar. Man, I keep forgetting that. Oh, he’ll know how to do it properly.” She smiled. “I’ll have to bring Nat back here. She’d love to see a proper prewar Christmas.”

“You celebrate?”

“Yeah we do. Decorations, presents, the whole thing. I helped Nat decorate the office a couple weeks ago. How come it’s taken him this long?”

“I don’t think he’s been keeping track of the date.” MacCready frowned. “Presents?”

“Yeah! You gotta have Christmas presents. You should get one for Blue.”

“I don’t know what he’d want.”

“Hey, you probably know him better than anyone. What does he like?”

“He likes… Fighting. Making stuff. Uh… Me?”

Piper laughed. “Why don’t you tie yourself up with a red ribbon and surprise him on your bed, naked.”

“ _Piper_.” He shifted, suddenly embarrassed. Cass made a displeased noise, resettling herself.

“I think he’d like that. That being said, I’ve got no idea where we would find a red ribbon.”

“Yeah, that’s the biggest problem with that plan.”

“Hey, I’m trying here.” She became serious again. “Okay. What about something useful? A new weapon?”

“Nah, he’s too attached to his sword. He’d never replace it.”

“Something personal then. Something you know he’d really want.”

“Mm. I’ll think about it.”

“You do that.”

 

It was approaching the evening when Nate came back. Sure enough, he arrived accompanied by a pack Brahmin laden with what looked like three whole pine trees. Not huge ones, but actual pine trees nonetheless.

“I got one for each of the houses.” Nate explained. “Ours, the bunkhouse, and the office.”

“Alright. So what do we do with them now?”

“Put them up and decorate them. We don’t have any proper decorations, but whilst I was cutting them down I came up with a few ideas.”

With help from not just MacCready, but everyone in the settlement, he potted the trees, placing one in each house. They stood about five feet high, and shed pine needles everywhere, Nate just laughed and promised he’d clean it up later. Then he began going through his massive collections of junk and began putting together things he deemed usable as decorations. Polished silver and gold lockets, ornaments created from crystal bottle stoppers and coloured glass, bullet casings of varying shades of gold, silver and bronze. He strung them up with multi-coloured lights, and, after some meticulous handiwork, adorned the top of each with a carefully handmade star, created from wire worked into delicate loops and patterns. By the time the trees were decorated, it was dark, and as Nate carefully connected the many strings of lights to the town’s generators, Covenant lit up, bathed in warm lights of many different colours. It was unlike anything MacCready had seen before. Using who knows what, Nate had made lights in red, green and gold, and the way they caught the makeshift ornaments made the trees sparkle.

“What do you think?” Nate asked, standing back to admire his handiwork.

“It’s beautiful.” MacCready told him honestly. “It’s… It’s really beautiful.”

 

Over the next few days, Nate would often disappear. He wasn’t the only one. Several of the other inhabitants had asked Nate various questions regarding their celebration. After being consulted on three separate occasions as to whether or not they could invite friends to stay with them on Christmas night, Nate decided they should just throw a party.

“The difficult part will be finding places for everyone to stay.” He told MacCready. “We have some spare beds, but Piper wants to bring Nat, Nick wants to invite Ellie, Hancock wants Fahrenheit and Preston… well, Preston wants to invite everyone from Sanctuary. That’s…” He counted for a moment. “Seven extra beds. I’m going to have to put a couple extra in the bunkhouse, and Nick’s office is gonna be full.”

“Do we still get some privacy?”

“I think so.” He smiled at his lover. “Don’t you worry. I’ll find time for you.”

“You better.”

Aside from sleeping arrangements, Nate’s biggest concern seemed to be finding presents for everyone. He was all too happy to discuss what he was getting for the others, but as soon as MacCready started prying for what might be for him, Nate’s guard went up. It was more than a little frustrating, but Nate stuck to the idea that it was supposed to be a surprise. On top of this, every time he ventured out he seemed to come back with something new he could use as a decoration. Covenant slowly became more and more colourful. There were ribbons tied around railings, wreaths of whatever plants Nate could get his hands on on doors, and even bright red and green neon letters reading MERRY CHRISTMAS on the wall of the bar.

“He’s having far too much fun with this.” Nick commented as they watched him balancing on a bar stool attempting to attach a sprig of some sort of plant to the door frame of their house. They were sat before the campfire, the flames warm and bright even as the lights lit up the world around them. MacCready was sipping from a bottle of whiskey, the alcohol warm in his chest. “You can tell it means a lot to him.” The old synth’s tone was fond. “It’s good. This place could do with more cheer.”

“Do you celebrate Christmas?”

“Used to. Sometimes we do. Mostly it’s an understated affair. Ellie and I will exchange little gifts. Nothing too flashy. Sometimes I let her put lights up in the Agency.” There was a faraway sort of look in his glowing eyes. “But this?” He gestured around at the merry sight around them. “This is the sort of thing you just don’t get anymore. Never thought I’d get to see it again. It’s… Yeah. It’s nice.”

MacCready agreed, and passed him the whiskey.

 

Christmas eve came quickly after that. In the morning, Nate went out one final time, and came back hauling a radstag doe.

“Christmas dinner.” He told them, and eagerly began preparing what everyone was sure would be a feast. Around mid afternoon, people started leaving, and when they returned they brought friends and loved ones with them. First back were Piper and Nat. Nat’s expression as she walked through the town gates was one of pure wonder. Nate greeted her happily, and gave her a packet of sweets by way of an early Christmas gift. Piper watched her sister exploring the town excitedly with fondness, and when she walked over to Nate and MacCready, she looked happier than the merc thought he’d ever seen her.

“Thank you for this.” She told the redhead. “It really means a lot to her.”

“It means a lot to me too.” His expression sobered up a bit, though it remained content. “I know if Shaun was here he’d love it too.”

That turned MacCready’s thoughts to Duncan. Since he’d never really celebrated Christmas, Duncan hadn’t either. However… this year, he’d done something. He’d found a present he was sure Duncan would like, a plush toy cat that didn’t look too different to Cass. It was in good condition, its fur only mildly matted and its glass eyes still shiny once he’d wiped off the dust. He’d decided that, along with a letter he’d wrote telling Duncan all about Nate’s Christmas and what they were going up to, he’d send it on Christmas day. That, and one last thing. He had a camera, a working one Nate had recovered from an old office. He was going to take pictures of their evening, of the decorations and the people and the presents, and send them too. Show him what he would be coming back to. Because he’d promised in his letter that Duncan would be with them to celebrate next year’s Christmas, and he fully intended to keep that promise.

Nick and Ellie were next. The detective’s assistant and closest friend had dressed up a little, wearing a lovely silver dress and pink shawl around her shoulders. Nick was wearing the same patched coat, though MacCready swore his shirt was clean, and maybe even ironed. Fahrenheit arrived on her own, since Hancock had stayed at Covenant, and before too long Preston was introducing Cait to his friends from Sanctuary. Covenant was busier than MacCready had ever seen it, full of faces both familiar and new. Every single one of them, however, seemed to know Nate, and all were happy to see him and happy to see what he’d done. It didn’t take long for the drinks to be broken out. Nate started trying to be polite, handing out glasses, but it didn’t take long for that to dissolve, and before long most people seemed to be merrily swigging out of some bottle or another. Piper was playing mother bird, trying her best to keep Nat away from at least the stronger stuff. MacCready caught Cait slipping her a glass of Nuka Cola mixed with rum whilst the reporter’s back was turned.

 

As it turned out, Cait and Fahrenheit got on like a house on fire. The two were sharing a bottle of vodka on the stairs, not too far from where Nick and Ellie were sat, exchanging quiet words and smiles. MacCready wondered if there was anything between them, what with the gentle fondness they interacted with. Then he found his mind straying down the path of what it would be like to kiss a synth, and went to find Nate to distract himself. He found his boyfriend chatting to Sanctuary’s resident handyman, Sturges. He was describing how he created the decorations, the practicalities behind making it all work.

“Oh, hey RJ.” He smiled as he noticed MacCready approaching. “Having a good time?” MacCready held up his beer. “Sure am.” He looked around at the happy faces around the campfire, looked at the lights and the decorations and listened to the music coming from the radio, turned all the way up from its place in the bar. Even then he couldn’t hear the music properly over the babble of voices. “I don’t think I’ve ever experienced anything like this.”

“I don’t think many of us have.” Sturges smiled. “This here’s remarkable, what you’ve got goin’ on. You can bet that next year I’ll have Sanctuary done up all pretty just like this.”

“I think you’re going to single-handedly bring back Christmas, Blue.” Piper chipped in as she joined them. Nate chuckled.

“That’s the goal.”

 

The chatting and the merrymaking went on well into the evening. Everyone seemed to have a healthy (or unhealthy) amount of alcohol in them, and gradually people seemed to calm down, settling around the fire. Nate pulled MacCready aside, retreating to their balcony. MacCready could tell he was slightly drunk from the flush on his cheeks, and the somewhat silly smile on his face.

“Merry Christmas RJ.” He grinned at the younger man.

“Merry Christmas.” MacCready laughed softly, his own lightheadedness making him giddy and happy.

“I think you owe me something.” Nate pulled him closer. The merc felt himself frown.

“What do I owe you?”

The redhead pointed upwards. MacCready followed the line of his finger to see the plant Nate had put there. Its white berries seemed to shine in the light of the town. “Know what that is?” There was playful mischief in his tone. MacCready shook his head. “That’s mistletoe. Do you know what that means?”

“No…” The younger man looked up at Nate’s face, almost glowing in his joy.

“That means you owe me a kiss.”

“It does?”

“Yeah. It’s tradition. If you meet someone under the mistletoe, you have to give them a kiss.”

“I didn’t meet you here though. You pulled me over here.” He pointed out.

“Shhh.” Nate put a finger on his lips, then trailed it down to his chin. MacCready knew what he wanted, and he obliged, tilting his head up and pressing his body to Nate’s. He closed his eyes as Nate leaned down to meet him, and felt the softness of Nate’s lips on his. He sighed into the kiss, wrapping his arms around Nate’s neck. The buzz of alcohol in his brain made it easy to shut out the world around them, until it was just him and Nate, the warmth of their bodies and the wetness of their lips and tongues. He felt more than heard Nate’s soft, happy laugh, the vibrations from his chest and the change in the rhythm of his breath. He felt arms around his waist pulling him even closer, if that was even possible.

“Hey! Get a room!” Someone’s- Cait’s- voice broke through their little bubble, and MacCready laughed too, reluctant to lose the moment. Nate sighed, pressing a few more gentle kisses to his lips, then broke away. In the soft light, his expression was warm, content and happy in a way he rarely was. The glow flickered across his scars and in his eyes, and MacCready knew that this, not the decorations, or the drinks, or the presents, this was the best part of Christmas. Seeing Nate this happy. He felt himself smile, and he hugged Nate, saying once more, “Merry Christmas.”

 

Finally, after more conversation, more food and just a little more drink, they all retired to bed. Fortunately, there wasn’t much bickering about who should sleep where, and anyway, Nate and MacCready were removed from it all, inside their own house. Their Christmas tree lit the room warmly. Once in the privacy of their room, they lost themselves once more in kisses and touches, shedding themselves of the day’s clothes. As MacCready lay on his back on the bed before Nate, he recalled Piper’s suggestion, and laughed.

“What’s so funny?” Nate murmured as he pressed kisses along the length of MacCready’s throat, his body warm against the younger man’s.

“Piper… Ah, Piper suggested that for, for your Christmas present, I should-” He gasped as Nate’s hand dipped between his thighs, “I should tie myself up with ribbon and surprise you in- oh, in bed.”

Nate hummed, his palm pressing against the base of MacCready’s cock. “I like this idea.”

“Do you want- Do you want to see me tied up?” MacCready asked, suddenly entirely serious. Nate pulled away, looking down at him.

"Are you... is that an offer?" He asked.

"It... could be." MacCready said, feeling a blush creeping over his cheeks. He shifted, encouraging Nate to touch more.

"Oh. Oh RJ. RJ, sweetheart, love, I would _love_ to see you tied up." Nate breathed, excitement in his eyes.

"Do you want to...?"

"Now?"

MacCready looked up at his partner, at the look on his face. And he nodded. Nate was still a moment longer, then his face split into a smile. "Alright then." He leaned down to kiss him once more, soft and caring. "We're using the traffic light system, yeah?" He murmured against his lover's lips.

"Nate, you're only tying me up. I'm sure I can take it."

"For now." The redhead smirked. MacCready returned the smile.

"One thing at a time cowboy."

Nate chuckled. "Alright. One moment." He pushed himself up, then paused. "Close your eyes."

MacCready did as he was told, trying to suppress a shiver that was suddenly threatening to run down his spine. He tried to listen, heard the sound of a drawer opening and things moving around, then the bed shifted and he felt warm weight on top of him once more. Nate pressed a kiss to his lips, and MacCready felt his lover's hand around his wrist. He couldn't resist the thrum of excitement that went through him at Nate's firm grip. Then there was something cold on his skin, and he heard clicking.

"Are those... handcuffs?" He asked.

"Mmmmm." Nate responded softly, moving MacCready's other wrist into place and pushing the cuffs closed. The merc felt warm breath on his ear. "You can open your eyes now."

He did so, and pulled, testing his restraints. The cuffs were obviously looped around the frame, meaning he couldn't move his arms from above his head. He felt... helpless. But he found that because it was Nate he was helpless before, he didn't mind. In fact, it was pretty exciting.

"How do you feel?"

"I feel..." He shifted, and heard the slight clinking of the cuffs against the frame. "I feel good."

"Good." The older man sat back, letting out a slow breath as he took in the sight before him. He ran his hands over MacCready's chest, and the younger man shivered, the touch ticklish but pleasant. "God, you're beautiful." Nate breathed, tracing the muscles that stood out in MacCready's chest and arms, the curvature of his shoulders. It tickled, and MacCready found himself twitching at the sensation, but with the cuffs around his wrists, there was nothing he could do to stop it.

"You think so?"

"Of course I think so." Nate kissed the bared expanse of his chest. "I wouldn't have chosen you otherwise."

He felt himself smile at that. "Thanks."

"Any time." With that, Nate's tongue found his nipple. He gasped, the sensation jolting through him.

" _Oh_..." Nate flicked his tongue, teasing him with the very tip, drawing little circles around the sensitive spot. With alcohol still capping his inhibitions slightly, he wasn't ashamed when he let out a sound that was half-moan, half-whimper. Nate pulled back for only a second, to wet a fingertip and use it to tease the other. MacCready bit his lip, arching his back. He swore he felt the contact sharp and poignant between his legs.

"God." Nate looked up at him. "I don't even have to touch you properly and I've already got you making those gorgeous sounds for me."

"Can't help it." MacCready breathed. "'S your fault."

"And I love it." He nipped gently at the pale skin of his lover's chest, pulling a gasp from the man beneath him.

"Nate..." He shifted again, feeling warm weight on sensitive places.

"Mm?"

"Touch me."

At that, Nate giggled. Just a little. "RJ, the whole point of these," he tapped the cuffs lightly, "is that you don't get to decide. You can ask, if you want to. But if I give you what you want that's my decision."

MacCready shivered. "Do you want me to beg?"

"Would you?"

"Please, Nate. Jesus, I need you to touch me. Please."

"Mmm... You ask so nicely..." he traced MacCready's inner thigh. MacCready sighed, and spread his legs, welcoming the touch. Nate leaned down, kissing him just below his navel.

"Nate." He all but moaned, feeling just a little too hot. The man in question hummed happily, his face centimetres from his lover's erection. MacCready could feel his breath, hot and almost unbearable on too sensitive skin. Nate kissed where his fingers had been minutes before, on his inner thigh, close enough to excite him, but not close enough to give him any sort of satisfaction. "Oh _god_ , really?" MacCready wanted to do something, to tangle his fingers in his hair, to _make_ him give him what he wanted. He pulled on the chains, that tiny clink of metal on metal taunting him. He heard Nate's laugh, and then the redhead was bracing his legs over his shoulders. His head swam, a mix of drunkenness and pleasure addling his thoughts. Then he felt a tongue in a very sensitive spot, and he gasped. "Nate..."

"Mmm?" The man hummed, then repeated the action, spreading his lover's legs just a little bit further.

"Are... are you sure you want to do that?" He felt Nate's tongue again, so deliciously hot and slick against his entrance, and swallowed back any further complaint. Since that first time, he had relaxed around Nate, becoming accustomed to his touches and no longer feeling self conscious at his ministrations, but this was new territory. The sensation was very different to that of Nate's fingers, flexible and warmer than expected. As delicious a feeling as it may be, however, Nate's tongue could only do so much, and the redhead seemed to quickly grow tired. He trailed kisses upwards, and MacCready jerked as Nate curled his fingers around his cock, and that warm tongue was put to good use elsewhere. The older man was still teasing, toying with sensitive spots without giving him anything he could really get off on. It was almost unbearable. Another sound escaped him as Nate teased just under the head, where he knew it would get a reaction from the younger man.

"Please, Nate... Oh god you're so mean..." The redhead chuckled, and MacCready felt it and twitched, bucking his hips slightly. His breathing came in pants, and he pulled at the cuffs again, despite knowing he wasn't getting free until Nate was done with him. That thought in itself was thrilling to the core.

Nate couldn't keep teasing him forever. Eventually, he gave in to his lover's whispered pleas and took the head of his cock into his mouth, just enough to hear his drawn, out, breathy " _O-oh_...", to make him buck into his mouth in wordless need. MacCready felt the hot pressure of his tongue pressing over the slit, and Nate looked up at him, that mischievous look still very much present in his eyes. Slowly, all too slowly, he began to work his way down. MacCready's breathing was coming in uneven gasps, and his entire body felt flushed. The first time Nate had done this, he'd told MacCready that he was out of practice, and with a few tries he'd be able to take MacCready's whole length. Turns out he wasn't bluffing. MacCready felt the strange, soft texture of his throat, and almost cried out when Nate swallowed around him, causing hot flashes of pleasure to chase through his body. After too much time had past, too slow a progression, Nate reached the base of his cock. MacCready felt the slight tickle as his nose brushed the hair there, and the pleasure- _oh_ that sensation was almost overwhelming. The heat, the pressure, it made him _ache_. All he needed, and he needed it so badly, was friction. He bucked again, trying to chase some of that friction, but Nate moved with him. He gritted his teeth, closing his eyes against the sensation. Nate held that position a moment longer, then he began to move. MacCready moaned again, moving with Nate as he felt the man's lips and tongue moving over what was now sore with need. He wasn't going to last long, he could tell. Nate was just too good at this. " _Ah_ -", he bit down on his lip a little harder than he intended to, a short sharp spike of pain cutting through the haze of pleasure. Nate could read him like a book, and he knew all the tricks to pull the best reactions from the man beneath him. Every now and then he would pause, drawing it out, and MacCready would all but scream in frustration, pleading his name. But he could feel it, oh he could feel it building in the pit of his stomach. He swallowed, licking his lips to get rid of the dryness brought on by his uneven, shallow breathing. His movements became jerky, no longer consciously decided but driven by pure instinct. He muttered Nate's name over and over, mixed with scattered phrases and words of praise and he was right there oh he was it was coming _he_ was coming and-

Nate stopped. He didn't just stop moving, he actually pulled back, leaving MacCready wet and cold and too hot and aching. The younger man cried out in frustration, thrusting into the air and pulling at the chains until his wrists hurt.

" _Why_ the _ffff_ \- why would you do that?!" He gasped, coherent thought somewhat escaping him as he desperately seeked contact.

"I was just warming you up." Nate told him, grinning. "You don't think I'm done with you yet, do you?"

"You're- _ah_ \- you're a _complete dick_!"

The redhead leaned over him, looking down and smirking. "So stop me."

MacCready was beginning to regret letting Nate chain him up.

Fortunately, Nate didn't leave him like that for long. He retrieved a very familiar looking bottle, and leaned down to give his wound up lover a deceivingly sweet kiss. He heard the bottle being opened, and then Nate's low, gentle command of "Relax for me." He did as he was told, sighing and spreading his legs further. Though it was direct contact that he really wanted, the feeling of the pad of Nate's finger, wet with slick, against his entrance was welcome too, and he felt the dizzy lightheadedness of pleasure as almost a conditioned response to the touch. He drew in a breath as Nate slipped the first finger inside him, feeling all too hot and heady. He felt his muscles adjusting, and when Nate crooked his finger ever so slightly he could feel it, and let out a soft sigh. Nate began to move the digit, rubbing little circles inside him. He was used to the sensation by now, but it still felt strange. He continued this for a moment, and a sudden spike of pleasure hit the younger man, causing his body to twitch. Nate hummed happily, having found what he was looking for.

"O- _oh, Nate_..." MacCready breathed. Nate was rubbing little circles inside him, in such a way that was causing his skin to prickle with pleasure. He pushed back on Nate's hand, willing him to give him _more_.

"Feels good?" Nate murmured in a low, fond tone.

"F- _yeah_ , it feels good..." The merc breathed. " _More_..."

"More what?"

MacCready could have screamed at him. " _Please_ , Nate, I need- _oh_ , I need you to give me _more_."

Nate made a low noise of contentment, and slipped a second finger in. MacCready sighed, though it still wasn't enough. He gasped and panted as Nate found the spot again, one finger either side and rubbing gently. He squirmed, feeling a little like if... if Nate just kept going, he might- _oh_ , he might be able to come just from that. He was just so... he _needed_ it, and yeah he wanted Nate to fuck him but this, this sensation on its own was... it was _so good_. The muscles in his lower back seized up, and he felt himself tense. Nate changed tactics again, applying direct pressure to the spot, and MacCready moaned, arching his back and pushing himself against Nate's fingers. He wanted to grab Nate and pull him down for a kiss, but he couldn't. He could only lay there and take it.

"You're so gorgeous like this." He vaguely heard Nate say, though the slow, almost lazy circles being drawn around that spot inside him were all he could concentrate on really. "All spread out and on offer for me." He felt lips on his chest. "Irresistible."

"F- f- _aah_... I... Nate, I..." he gasped, his mind refusing to put together the words he wanted.

"Shh." Nate kissed him once, oh so gently. "I know what I'm doing." MacCready chased the kiss, wanting more, but there was little he could do. The sensation- he was going to come untouched, he could feel it. His breathing was staccato, his heartbeat all too noticeable, pounding deep in his chest. He felt sweat on his skin, making it cool even as just underneath he was burning.

Somewhere through the haze, though the sensations coming from between his legs didn't stop, pushing him ever closer to that delicious edge, he heard Nate's soft sounds of pleasure. When he opened his eyes, he saw Nate's hand around his cock, stroking lazily.

"Are you...?" He tried to ask, but he couldn't finish the sentence. Nate nodded, and after a few more moments, his fingers slipped out of MacCready. The younger man let out a sound of disappointment as his orgasm was chased from him a second time, but this time he didn't despair, as Nate prepared himself.

"Turn over." He breathed in a voice filled with lust.

"Wh...?" MacCready felt himself twitch.

"On your knees."

Feeling weak, every muscle trembling with pleasure and need, he did as he was told, moving so he was on his elbows and knees. The chain of the handcuffs was crossed over now, leaving him even less room to move. From here, he couldn't see what was happening. All he could do was feel. It didn't take long for Nate to touch, running warm hands over the backs of his thighs, his ass and his lower back.

"Nate... I need.... I need you..."

"I know love." He felt a kiss between his shoulder blades, and then Nate was there, and he felt hot hardness up against his entrance. He buried his face in the pillow as Nate pushed in, muffling the sounds that escaped him.

"...Don't." He heard Nate say in a laboured voice. He felt fingers winding through his hair. "I want to hear you..." He pulled on MacCready's hair lightly, simultaneously pushing in the last couple inches, causing his lover to moan, the sound no longer hidden by the pillow. "Better..." He heard Nate breathe behind him.

" _Jesus_ , Nate..."

"Gotta... you gotta change things up from time to time, right?" He laughed a little breathlessly. Then he began to move, and MacCready's hands closed around the frame of the bed, trying to stabilise himself as his body moved with Nate's, almost subconsciously. He shifted, spreading his legs just a little further and feeling every inch of Nate's length inside him.

"Ah..." He rested his head on his forearms, looking up at Nate out of the corner of his eye. The redhead's eyes were closed, loose strands of hair curling about his ears, sticking to his forehead, shining with sweat. He felt himself smile somewhat deliriously, before a shock of pleasure went through him, and he gasped. At that, he heard Nate's muted laughter, and the man changed his angle, knowing it would drive MacCready crazy. "Oh, f- _shit_ , oh, oh..." He bit down on the pillow, trying to stop any more curses from slipping out. _Every... Every fucking time_... It was... was it too much? _Yes_ , but at the same time he wanted it. His erection ached, desperate to be touched as he'd been wound up for what felt like hours, kept on edge by Nate's horrible, wonderful, awfully delicious teasing. He wanted to touch himself. He wanted Nate to touch him. He wanted _something_. His muscles trembled, on the verge of being overtaxed, and his every nerve burned.

"God, you're so... so good baby..." Nate's fingers tangled in his hair again, just a little bit rough in his affection. "It's- ah- it's good for you too?"

"Yes." MacCready breathed, straining against his bonds. "I want... I _need_ , fu- god Nate, _touch me_."

"Give me- I need a moment, love..." The merc felt Nate's lips on his shoulder, even as he thrust harder, causing MacCready to moan, pushing back against him. It was amazing really, how the redhead knew exactly what to do to get the very best reactions out of him. And something, something about being facedown in the bed, fingers in his hair and wrists bound made the whole thing better. He gasped and moaned, that all too familiar pressure returning, making him buck his hips as though he could find the friction he desired in the sheets below him. He heard his name on Nate's lips, breathy and full of lust. The redhead's hips stuttered, losing rhythm as his grip on his lover's hair became almost painful.

"RJ, oh fuck, RJ I'm going to-" he cut himself off, and leaned forward. MacCready felt warm fingers wrap around his cock, and he cried out, the ache finally being relieved. His breath caught, and he closed his eyes. For a moment, the sensation was all he could think of. Nate gasped and moaned his name, interspersed with curses and murmured compliments. He felt his partner stall out, shaking, and the now familiar hot wetness deep inside him. Seconds later, his own orgasm hit him. It hit him hard, and he swore that for a second he whited out, suddenly feeling like he wasn't getting quite enough air, despite the fact that he was panting hard, crying out Nate's name. Nate stroked him through his orgasm, making white hot pleasure chase through his blood until it became too much, too much for him to handle.

Gradually, his thoughts cleared. He was vaguely aware of Nate picking the lock on his cuffs, freeing him from his bonds, and doing his best to clean the worst of the mess on the sheets. He watched lazily, still twitching every now and then as his oversensitised skin made contact with the soft fabric beneath him. After a few minutes, Nate tapped his shoulder, encouraging him to roll over. He did so, and Nate kissed him, long and sweet and slow. When they separated, Nate looked down at him for a moment, combing his fingers through the hair at his temple, then lay beside him, and pulled him close. MacCready wrapped his leg around Nate's and pressed his lips to the jagged scars on his shoulder. There, he settled into Nate's embrace, and let sleep take him. Throughout their exchange they didn't need to say any words; both knew exactly what the other was thinking; _Merry Christmas. I love you_.

 

The next morning, they were woken by noise. Talking, coming from outside. Through the haze of sleep, MacCready thought he could hear Nat, calling excitedly for the others to come open presents. He stirred, and then became aware that Nate was already awake and sitting up in bed. He was grinning like an idiot.

"Morning."

The merc looked up sleepily. "M'rning."

"It's Christmas." The excitement in his voice was obvious.

MacCready wiped the sleep from his eyes and yawned, pushing himself up. He winced slightly as the muscles in his legs protested. "Feels early."

"I woke up early. As did some other people, it sounds like."

"Do we have to get up?"

Nate leaned in to kiss his cheek, murmuring in his ear. "We do if you want presents."

 _Presents_. At that, MacCready paid attention. Nate laughed. "I thought that would work. Come on, let's put some clothes on. You alright? I didn't work you too hard last night?"

"I'll be fine." He got to his feet, ignoring the lingering soreness. Nate wasted no time with getting ready, on his feet and pulling on the nearest clothes he could get his hands on. MacCready did the same, then watched as Nate disappeared off into what had effectively become their pantry and came back with what looked like a bag full of stuff.

"Kinda need a Santa hat for this." He commented, slinging the sack of presents over his shoulder. He grinned at MacCready's expression, wide-eyed with shock, then moved to leave. MacCready heard him talking in a loud, happy voice to the other people who were up and about, wishing them merry Christmas. Once he was gone, MacCready scrabbled for his own gifts. He didn't have nearly as many to give out, but he'd put a lot of thought into them, and he hoped they were appreciated.

They resolved to wait until everyone was up to give out gifts, so the first half hour or so was spent eating food, chatting and laughing. The Commonwealth had graced them with a morning that wasn't painfully cold, which was generally appreciated, though Nate seemed to be lamenting his idea of a white Christmas.

"Eh. Never really used to get them prewar either, to be honest with you." He told MacCready. "I think we got more snow in April than we did in December."

"I'm glad it doesn't snow much. It slows you down. Makes everywhere a muddy bog, and makes you way too easy to track." Nate gave him a look.

"We used to love snow when it came around."

"I'm sure you did. But you can't deny it's a pain."

"Whatever." He kissed his cheek, then popped open a Nuka Cola.

 

Eventually, everyone was up. After some chatter, Nate stood, calling everyone's attention. "Alright. I'd just like to say, thank you all for being here. I know a lot of you don't really do Christmas, and those of you who do don't do much, so I hope I've been able to show you a little bit about what Christmas was like for me growing up. I want you to know how much it means to me, that you would all give me the chance to celebrate like this again."

"Sap." Hancock called out, grinning. A few people laughed.

"It's true. I'm being gross and emotional. Feel free to ignore me. But yeah. That's all I had to say. Merry Christmas." There was a chorus of 'merry Christmas' back, and then Nate turned his attention back to his bag of presents. "Alright. Let's do this, shall we?"

With that, a number of people stood, going around handing things out. MacCready did the same. Cait gave him a tight hug as he handed her the combat knife he'd gotten for her. Kleo had charged him a fortune for it, but she'd assured him it was the best on the market, and he believed her. In return, Cait handed him a set of wickedly bladed knuckles.

"Put some force behind those punches of yours." She teased, and he gave her a light shove, making her laugh.

He explained to Preston that the little wooden box he'd given him contained all the parts he would need to upgrade his laser rifle, making it twice as powerful with half the recoil, to which the Minutemen lieutenant clapped him on the shoulder. "Thanks, man." He received an issue of Guns and Bullets. A rare one, which Nate didn't have in his collection. He had to resist finding a quiet corner to sit and read in. Instead he went around, exchanging gifts and smiles, and eventually, there was only one thing left to do. He took a breath, and closed his hand around the last object left in the bottom of his pocket.

"Hey. Nate." Nate turned, having been chatting to Hancock about the recipe for the special bottle of pills he'd mixed up for him. His face split into a smile. "RJ." Then his eyes flickered around, looking for something. "Hold on." He retrieved the bag from where he'd stashed it under a bench. It looked mostly empty now, but there was still at least one thing left in it. Quite a big thing, by the looks of it. "I hope you like it. I actually found it a while back, can't believe I actually did to be honest." He handed it over. MacCready reached into the bag, his hand closing around something smooth. He drew it out. It was a large, two-handed axe. A very familiar axe.

"No..." He held it up, examining the pattern of the hilt, the shape of the blade. "This isn't- it can't be!"

Nate nodded. "I found it when I was exploring the old Hubris comics building. I believe it's the genuine article, used in the old movies."

"Holy... _Nate_!" He held it up, and laughed. He was holding _Grognak's axe_. The real thing.

"I know you're not a melee fighter." The redhead shrugged, "But I figure it's more a collectible than anything else."

"Are you kidding? I love it!" He threw his arms around his boyfriend, hugging him tightly. "Thank you!"

"You're welcome." Nate pressed a kiss to his temple. MacCready let go, stepping back. Then he cleared his throat, suddenly feeling a little nervous. He rested the axe carefully on the nearest bench, then turned back.

"Okay." He took a breath. Nate gave him a curious look, eyebrow half-raised. "So, I was thinking. I had... no idea what to get you. When you said you were doing the whole Christmas thing I had to try and think of a present you would like, and it felt like I didn't have a lot of time. I wasn't sure I'd be able to get this, in the time that I had. I had to do a lot of jobs and stuff around Diamond City and places while you were out to pay for it."

"RJ, what did you do?" Nate asked, a somewhat exasperated smile on his face.

"I did, um, I got you this." He reached into his pocket, and pressed the gift into Nate's palm. Nate's eyes widened, and he held up the little silver ring. "I don't know if it's- I think it's prewar, so it's probably genuine." He motioned to the single stone embedded in the silver. Just a small one, nothing too showy.

Nate seemed a little speechless. MacCready coughed, feeling a blush on his cheeks. "I don't know how long it was customary to be together before, you know... But these days, I mean, you've gotta-" he swallowed. "When you meet someone you really love you've gotta make the most of it. And it's been- what, a good few months now? That's long enough for me. To decide that you're... To decide that I want you with me for the rest of my life."

"RJ." Nate asked in a carefully measured voice. "Are you... proposing to me?"

"Well..." He took the ring, and looked around, having noticed that everyone around them had stopped what they were doing, and were watching. He caught Cait's eye, and she made a _well go on then_ motion. "Oh, alright then." He took one last breath, then dropped to one knee. "Nate, after Lucy died I thought that was it for me. My chance at love. But I was wrong, and I'm so happy I was. You... you're insane. You changed just about everything in my life that you could. For the better. So..." He held up the ring. "...Will you marry me?"

Nate stared at him a moment longer, then a laugh escaped him. A short, sharp, exhilarated laugh. "Holy shit. This is... this is really happening, huh?"

"Just say yes already idiot!" Cait yelled, accompanied by a chorus of "Yeah!"s from those surrounding her. Nate laughed again, and pulled him to his feet.

"Yes, of course it's yes, how could it be anything else?" And with that he pulled him into a kiss, amidst cheers from all around them. When they broke apart, Nate held out his hand. "Alright then. Put it on me." MacCready took it, and slipped the ring onto his finger. Nate laced their fingers together, kissing him again. "I love you so, so much."

"I love you too." MacCready breathed, feeling a little lightheaded, even relieved, despite never having doubted the answer.

 

The rest of the day could have been awful, for all MacCready cared. If every single thing that could possibly have gone wrong did, MacCready would have still considered this the best Christmas he could possibly wish for. As it was, though, that wasn't the case. They shared an amazing meal, the doe Nate had hunted providing plenty for all, and most of their guests stayed into the evening, just enjoying having a safe place to be, surrounded by good food, good drink and good company. But eventually they began to leave, going back to their respective homes.

"Can't I stay just a little bit longer?" Nat asked Piper as the pair prepared for the walk to Diamond City.

"It's already going to be dark by the time we get back to the office." Piper told her. "And someone needs to be there to run the business."

"Will you stay the night then?" She asked. "It's Christmas. I don't wanna be on my own."

"Of course I will." Piper hugged her. "Don't forget your new stuff, yeah?"

"I got it. Bye Dogmeat." She gave the German Shepard one last pat on the head, and he barked at her, making her laugh. "Love you too." Then she turned to him and Nate. "Congrats again. And thank you. This has been the best Christmas ever!"

"You're welcome." Nate smiled. "Come back next year."

"Duh." Nat grinned. "Ok let's go. Before it gets dark."

"You got it. See you in a few days." Piper addressed them. "Expect to see the announcement in tomorrow's paper." She winked, and MacCready glared at her. Laughing, she responded, "Nah, but really. I'm happy for you guys. You deserve it."

"Thanks."

"Anytime." With that, they left. Covenant was quiet again, peaceful. Nate glanced around.

"Oh, man."

"What?"

"I'm gonna have so much cleaning up to do."

MacCready laughed, looking around at the piles of empty bottles and other bits of rubbish. "I'm sure Codsworth'll have it cleaned up by morning."

"Yeah, you're probably right." He took MacCready's hands in his own, facing him. "We're engaged."

MacCready laughed. Hearing it out loud sounded strange. "Yeah. We are."

"You do realise this means organising a wedding, right? Probably spending a lot of caps."

"I mean, do you want to make a big deal out of it?"

Nate gave him a look. "Do you know me at all?"

"Yeah. You're probably right." He pulled Nate down to kiss him. "I have one request."

"Mm?" Nate's hand went to his cheek. He could feel the ring against his skin.

"I want Duncan to be there. I sent him a letter earlier today. I told him about what I was going to do."

"So that's what the pictures were for."

"Yeah." He smiled. "I know it might mean we have to wait a bit, but I think he'd want to be there."

Nate nodded. "That makes sense. I'm alright with that."

"Thank you." He kissed him again, and it was slow and sweet. Nate's hands found his hips and pulled him close, his body warm against MacCready's. He sighed into the other man's mouth, content. When MacCready spoke, he didn't quite break the kiss, saying the words against Nate's lips. "Has today been everything you wanted?"

"Are you kidding?" Nate rested his forehead against MacCready's. "It's been even better than that."

MacCready smiled, feeling warm inside, the colourful lights around them just starting to replace daylight once again. "Merry Christmas, Nate."

"Merry Christmas, RJ."

 


	16. Call to Arms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nate thought he'd left the life of a soldier- and all the deception that came with it- behind. Turns out that might not be the case.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here it is. Christmas present part 2- the next instalment in the main story. Apologies for the lateness ;P I'm happy to see the responses to yesterday's story already rolling in, and all very positive. I'm glad I could give you a gift you enjoyed :)

"Charmer, aren't you busy already?"

"Let me explain." Nate stepped forward. "Pre-war, I was a soldier. We know that the Brotherhood are a primarily military force, correct? So it'd be easy for me to gain favour using that little fact as leverage. In fact, they'd probably love me for the fact that I'm pre-war alone. My DNA is probably the least mutated of anyone in the Commonwealth since radiation hadn't factored hugely in my life until I stepped out of that icebox. As for selling information and scoping threats- well, let's just say I have experience in that field. Yes, getting into the Institute is my number one priority, but I'm gonna need something to do once I've got Shaun back."

Desdemona considered him. "What if we need you to start immediately?"

Nate shrugged. "It's probably gonna take some time to build this teleporter thing. I'll have time to make preparations."

"Are you sure?" MacCready broke in, frowning. "Isn't it a bit risky? I mean, what if they've heard about you? You haven't exactly been keeping your head down."

"Well... of all the things they'd've heard about, it'd be that I'm pre-war, that I'm the General of the Minutemen and that I killed a Courser. All things they'd most likely approve of. I mean, if they can get the Minutemen on their side..." He trailed off, thinking. "We'd have to keep the real reason why I signed up as much of a secret as possible. That might put some strain on some of my relationships to people."

"They trust you. I'm sure they'd trust you're doing it for a good reason."

"Mm." He looked up again. "Alright. So how do I go about doing this?"

"We have no idea." Deacon added. "Try and find one of their patrols, I guess."

Nate nodded. "RJ. You gonna come with?"

MacCready blinked. Him? Join the Brotherhood? Well, he supposed he could just follow Nate's lead and hope for the best. "Sure, why not?"

Nate grinned at him, showing teeth. "Let's fucking do this."

 

Before they could start looking for the Brotherhood, however, they both agreed they needed to go home. Both were tired and sore, and desperately wanted to clean up. So after Desdemona dismissed them, they headed back to Covenant.

"What I wouldn't give for a hot shower right about now." Nate claimed, stretching out stiff muscles after finally getting out of his armour.

"I don't think I've ever had one of those." MacCready mused.

"Oh man. They're to die for." He winked at the merc. "I'll have to find an excuse to show you sometime." MacCready's mind filled with images of himself sharing a shower with Nate, how the water would run over his marked skin wreathed in steam, his red hair dark and wet and sticking to his forehead. He felt his cheeks, as well as other places, heat up.

“Yeah. That… That sounds like a great idea.”

 

As it was, they settled for wiping off the worst of the dirt with a cloth and a bucket of clean water. They weren’t able to strip off completely due to the lack of privacy, but still it felt good to rinse away they layers of sweat and grime they had accumulated on their trip.

“I need a shave.” Nate commented, pushing his increasingly more shaggy hair back out of his face. Indeed, he was looking rugged, his stubble having grown out until it was almost a beard. MacCready agreed, knowing he, too, must be looking a little messy. “I’ll get that done before we head off. I’m sure our militant friends will prize neatness, if not as much as they used to. Here.” He took the cloth from MacCready, lathering it up with a bar of soap he’d recovered from some place or another. “Turn around.” The merc did as he was told, and felt a strong hand on his shoulder and the roughness of the cloth on his back. He sighed, enjoying the touch. When the soap was exchanged for cold water, he shivered. Nate finished cleaning him off and pressed a kiss between his shoulder blades. “My turn.”

MacCready returned the favour, examining the network of pale lines under his fingertips. Nate arched his back slightly when MacCready ran the cloth down the length of his spine, humming a laugh. “That’s nice.”

“Yeah?” The merc repeated his action, paying close attention to the short intake of breath he got when he reached the spot nearly at the base of the man’s spine. He waited for Nate to be content, sighing happy noises under his ministrations, then replaced his warm touch with the water, laughing as Nate yelped slightly. “Hey! Warn a guy when you do that.”

“Nah. That was funny.”

“Jesus, you’re such a child sometimes.” Nate turned to him, smiling fondly.

“Hey, all my role models growing up were kids. Being childish is all I know.”

“I never said it was a bad thing.” The redhead leaned down, kissing him gently. His breath was warm, pleasant compared to his cold skin.

“Let’s go inside. Get dressed. I might start shivering if we stay out here.”

“I can keep you warm.” Nate put his arms around the younger man, pulling him close. Sure enough, the contact was nice, soothing his chills. He made a content noise, leaning into the embrace.

“Still. And we’ve got stuff to do.”

“I suppose. Alright, fine.” He stepped back, letting go. Despite it being on his insistence, MacCready lamented the loss. “I’m gonna teach you how to be a soldier.”

 

It turned out there was a lot more to it than MacCready thought. The finished making themselves presentable, and Nate gave him tips on how to present himself. They both shaved- Nate clean and MacCready meticulously tidying up his trademark goatee- and Nate dressed in his favourite and least bloodstained leathers. MacCready pulled his jacket over a clean shirt, and made sure the belt wrapped around his leg was fully stocked with .45s. His partner hung his claw around his neck, and his sword at his belt. With his hair tied back once more, he began focusing on tactics. He talked about how regulation was key, how each individual acted, looked and behaved the same, simply part of a unit. Even in down time, you had to hold decorum. You could expect to be bullied- your superiors, even your fellow soldiers would give you names, push you around and pick on you. It was a measure of your strength, and the trick was to laugh with them, and bully them right back. Oh, and most importantly, your commanding officer’s word is law. If you disobey, you can expect anything from cut rations to corporal punishment.

“It’s inevitable that we’re gonna be asked to do stuff we don’t want to do. We’re just going to have to stomach it. Don’t forget, at the end of the day we’re undercover. That means putting up a front. Being someone you’re not. I’m going to act completely differently when we’re in there. Don’t be put off by that.”

MacCready gave him a guarded look. “What kind of different?”

“I’m going to be everything they want me to be. The model soldier.”

MacCready thought back to his Capital Wasteland days, and his experiences with Brotherhood soldiers. _A complete dickhead then. Got it._

“Of course, you’re going to need to be the same.”

The merc wrinkled his nose. “Really?”

“Yes. Insubordination will get you in trouble. Might blow our whole operation.” Nate gave him a look. “Do you think you can do that? If not, it might be better if I go in alone.”

“No. I can do it. Doesn’t mean I’ll like it though.”

“You don’t have to like it.” Nate pulled up his pipboy. “Right. Shortly after their blimp sailed into our skies I intercepted a Brotherhood signal that came from the old Cambridge police station. It’s been some time, so I don’t know if they’ll still have a patrol stationed there, but I figure it’s a good place to start looking.” His fingers went to the claw around his neck, tracing its curve absent-mindedly. “If that doesn’t work… I don’t know. Maybe head towards the blimp itself. There are bound to be patrols on the ground near it.”

“And we just… what? Walk up and say hi?”

“You got a better plan?”

MacCready thought for a moment. “Not really, no.”

“Let’s go then.”

 

“Well this is promising.” Nate murmured as they approached the station, hearing the sounds of energy weapon fire, and seeing bright flashes of red streak the landscape. He motioned for MacCready to arm himself, and drew his sword. Before long, they could see what the red flashes were aimed at- ferals. Huffing a sigh of displeasure, he began aiming. Nate launched himself into the fight the way he always did, and both of them heard a shout. A figure in power armour too clean and proper-looking to be raider armour had noticed their arrival. He didn’t have a helmet on, and MacCready could see surprise and apprehension in the stranger’s dark eyes. He nodded in a show of alliance, and turned his gun to the ghouls, blasting several of their heads off. After a while, the firing stopped, and the last ghoul toppled to the ground, dead. MacCready ran to Nate’s side. The man was wiping black blood from his sword on one of the dead ghouls’ ragged clothes.

“You alright?”

“Yeah. Minor scratches, nothing worse. You?”

“All good.”

“Excuse me. Civilians.” A third voice came from behind them. Nate straightened up, tucking his sword back into his belt, and turned to the voice. MacCready did the same. The man in power armour had approached them. The merc noted that whilst the man’s weapon was still in his hands, the safety was on and it was clearly lowered. _Idiot._

“Afternoon, officer.” The man seemed taken aback at being addressed like this. He also seemed to be taken aback as he registered Nate’s appearance. He didn’t comment, however.

“I don’t know why you are here, but we are grateful for your assistance.”

“Of course.”

The man seemed to consider them for a moment, as though weighing up a choice. “You both seem very capable fighters. Where are you from?”

Nate paused for a moment. “My partner is from the Capital Wasteland. I am from Vault 111.”

“Vault 111?” The stranger’s eyes widened slightly. “I confess I haven’t heard of that one.”

“It’s empty. I’m the only survivor.”

He considered that. “My condolences. Why are you here?”

“You looked like you were in a pinch. I don’t like ferals. It made sense.”

“Of course. If I seem suspicious, I apologise. Since we arrived here we have been constantly under fire.” There was a pause. “I realise this may seem unorthodox, coming from a stranger, but… If you would be willing to continue to assist, we could use an extra gun or two.”

Nate glanced at MacCready, who nodded at him, as though they hadn’t already planned that they were going to do exactly that. “We’re in.”

 

Paladin Danse, as he introduced himself, led them into the station. Inside, a woman, Scribe Haylen, tended to another soldier, Knight Rhys, who had apparently been injured in the fight. Rhys in particular was sour towards them, and seemed to be questioning Danse’s decision to let them in. On the other hand, Haylen was very welcoming.

“So. Danse says you’re from the Capital Wasteland, huh? We’re from over that way ourselves.”

“I guessed.” MacCready responded, trying his hardest to keep the bitterness out of his tone. “I had a few run-ins with some of your troops at my settlement. I doubt it was any of you though. It was some time ago.”

“What made you come here then?”

“Looking for work.” MacCready half-lied. “Life in my town wasn’t really going anywhere. I wanted to actually do something with myself.”

“Ambitious, too?” Haylen appraised him. “You know, you might just fit in here.” MacCready had to stop himself from disagreeing.

 

After they had settled in, introduced themselves and gotten patched up, Danse revealed the task he was setting them.

“I need assistance in retrieving a signal booster. I lost contact with our superiors after a fight, and we’ve been stuck here since. We have located a possible location for one, but it is overrun with synths.” He spat this word like it was something filthy. “We need to eradicate them and retrieve the transmitter.”

“Alright. Where are we headed?”

“ArcJet Systems. I would prefer we leave sooner rather than later.”

“Well then, what are we waiting for?”  
Danse smiled at them. “Outstanding.”

 

With that, he donned his helmet, and the three of them left for Arcjet. Along the way, Danse told them about their patrol, and how they’d lost one of their members. It wasn’t far to walk, but, ominously, when they entered the building, they found the automated security already disabled. Disabled by the method of utter destruction.

“Damn. Looks like we missed a party.” Nate commented, picking his way through the scrap metal that used to be a group of security protectrons.

“Watch yourself. This all but confirms the presence of Institute synths. Keep your guard up.”

They made their way through the building. Thanks to their little outing with Deacon, they knew how to handle synths, and were able to clear pathways without too much trouble. Danse seemed impressed at the way they tackled the enemy, though he too expressed distaste at Nate’s habit of picking up every bit of junk they came across.

“He does that a lot.” MacCready told him as he strode past, smirking a little at the exasperation in the paladin’s tone. “You get used to it.”. They quickly discovered that, in order to reach their destination, they would need to use an elevator- the stairs had caved in some time ago, and were completely untraversable. Unfortunately, the elevator didn’t have power.

“The power will most likely be located in the basement. We should head there.” Danse told them. Nate nodded and led the way. Before long, they came out into a large room with staircases winding up and down the walls. Glancing up, MacCready’s eyes widened, and he breathed a half-curse in awe. Unfortunately, he didn’t get to express this, as they were under fire by another group of synths. Standing on the ground floor of the room, piles of sparking wires and broken chassis at their feet, he pointed up.

“Hey. Is- is that a rocket? Like an actual rocket? That goes to space?”

Nate looked up, and whistled. “Damn. I think it might be. Doubt it’s ever going to leave the Earth now, though.”

Dance glanced up the stairs behind them, where they could hear more mechanical voices approaching. “The control room should be just on the other side of that door. You go through. I’ll hold them off.” Nate nodded, and MacCready followed him through the door. Sure enough, after a short stretch of corridor, they came across a room with several nuclear reactors in it, a panel of thick glass through which they could see Danse braced for the next onslaught of synths, and a series of lights and buttons. Most noticeably, a large, red button on a striped yellow and black background. It was immediately tempting, however the fact that none of the lights were on suggested that pressing the big red button might not do anything, at least not until the power was back on. Nate poked around a bit, picking up several things, including what looked like some kind of handheld cannon. He quickly discovered that he could use it to shoot literally anything he wanted. MacCready just rolled his eyes and looked for the power switch whilst Nate played with his new toy.

“Hey. I think I found it.” He commented, scrolling through lines of green text on a terminal screen.

“Yeah? Let’s get this place back online then.” The redhead slung the weapon over his shoulder and leaned over MacCready to get a good look at the terminal. After a few seconds of clicking, the room around them shuddered to life, lights flickering back on and whirring sounds filling the air. “There we go. Let’s get out of here.” MacCready nodded, and they went to leave. As they did so, however, MacCready saw through the glass that Danse was overrun with synths. His power armour seemed to be saving his life, keeping blows and laser shots off him, but there were too many for one man, or even three to fight.

“Uh… Nate?”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t think we want to go barrelling into the middle of that.”

Nate stopped, and thought. “We have to. He’s our ticket into the Brotherhood.”

“Don’t. You promised me you’d stop pitting yourself against stupid odds.”

The redhead opened his mouth, then closed it again. He looked around for a moment. MacCready’s eyes were drawn to the button. Lit up now, and shining red.

“Hey, Nate?” He asked. “How durable is power armour?”

Nate frowned. "I’ve seen people in high-end suits survive a mini nuke blast, albeit not in great shape. Why?” He followed MacCready’s gaze. “RJ… Really?”

“Is it a better chance than trying to fight them ourselves?”

Nate was silent for a moment. On the other side of the glass, Danse fell to one knee, dragged down by the synths.

“Alright fine.” He conceded. “But if he dies I’m blaming you.”

MacCready grinned, and pressed the button.

The roar of the engines was vicious. Before long, the room was filled with white-hot light. MacCready shielded his eyes, trying to see what was going on. They could feel the heat even from the other side of the wall, so MacCready could only imagine what it was like to stand directly in the beam. When the light died, and the noises fell silent once more, MacCready’s eyes adjusted, and he saw Danse still on one knee, unmoving. Around him, burnt wrecks that used to be synths scattered the floor. Nate’s eyes widened, and he ran back out to the room.

“Oh my God. Paladin- Danse, are you okay?” MacCready followed him. There was a moment, then a sharp intake of breath sounded from inside the helmet.

“I’m… alive.” He took a few more breaths, then stood up. MacCready could see blackened streaks on his armour where the flames had licked at the steel. “That was… a rather risky method, soldier. I thank you for saving my life, but I must advise you against gambling with the lives of your peers from now on. I can only be thankful my armour is a high enough grade to protect me from such blasts.”

“I didn’t realise- it happened as soon as we switched the power back on, Paladin! Had I known…” He trailed off. MacCready kept his expression blank, but wondered at the lie. Usually, Nate would have no issue displaying just how reckless he was.

“At any rate, we’re alive and we succeeded in switching the power back on. We should press forward.”

Nate nodded. “Of course.”

 

After that, clearing the rest of the building was simple. They retrieved the deep range transmitter from the body of one of the defeated synths, and were once more on their way. Once in open air, Danse stopped them.

“Well. That could have gone smoother.”

“Apologies, sir.” MacCready gave Nate a look. The man he knew would have made some smartass remark at that. This must be what he meant by _different_.

“However, given the circumstances, I believe you kept your head on your shoulders and handled everything calmly and logically, and for that I commend you. Both of you.”

“Thank you.”

“I believe there are two orders to discuss. Firstly…” He held out his weapon. “I’d like you to have this. Unfortunately I have only one, however I have two hundred and fifty caps for the two of you to do with as you please.”

“Really, Paladin, there’s no need.”

“Nonsense. I owe you my life, and maybe even the lives of my team mates, and the Brotherhood believes in paying our debts. It is my own personal modification of the standard Brotherhood laser rifle. I hope it serves you well.” Nate took the weapon, considering it, then added it to his collection. Danse handed MacCready the caps. He pocketed them.

“Thanks.”

“Of course. Secondly.” His helmet turned from one to the other of them, appraising them. “I believe you have what it takes, and I would like to make you a proposition.”

Nate met MacCready’s eyes for the briefest moment.

“I would like to sponsor you to join our ranks.”

Feigning surprise, Nate blinked, laughing a little. “Wow. Uh… Thank you, Paladin. I would consider it an honour.”

“And you?” Danse addressed MacCready. “Will you take this chance to make something of yourself? To have a true impact on the Commonwealth?” Inwardly, MacCready cringed at his words, wondering how every single one of these idiots could be so up themselves. Outwardly, he nodded.

“Gladly.”

Danse nodded. “Then it is settled. I’d say it will take only a couple of days to get the transmitter fixed, but you have time. When you are ready, come speak to me at the police station and I will take you to the Elder.” He gave them one last appraisal. “I look forward to working with the pair of you. Dismissed.”

 

“That was easy.” MacCready commented as they headed back home. “Easier than expected.”

“Mm.” Nate agreed with him. “They must be desperate for new recruits.”

“Yeah.” MacCready thought. What with the rising threat of the Institute, the Brotherhood flying in on their fancy blimp and his discovery that the Railroad was real and actively fighting back, he couldn’t help but feel like this was the lead up to something. Something big. And the way things were going, it looked like he and Nate might just be slap bang in the middle of it all. It was a mildly terrifying thought.

After depositing their haul, they were once more on the road. Desdemona would want to know of their success, and whilst the Brotherhood patrol fixed their transmitter, they could check up on Tinker Tom and his developments to their plans. As usual, they were greeted at the door by Drummer Boy.

“Heya. Tinker Tom wants to see the pair of you.”

“You got it.” Nate responded. “We’ve gotta check in with Des first though.”

Drummer Boy nodded, and left to go discuss something or another with the doc.

“Des. Hey.”

“Charmer. Bullseye.” The stately woman nodded at them. “Deacon tells me you’ve been busy.” MacCready glanced over, and spotted the man in a flannel shirt and what seemed to be a pompadour wig, still wearing his trademark shades. He waved, grinning. MacCready glared at him.

“He’s been watching us?”

“That’s his job, I’m afraid. We have to keep an eye on our agents in case they go rogue. But that’s beside the point. What’s happened?”

“We’re in.” Nate grinned. “I followed a signal I picked up from Cambridge police station. Found a patrol there in need of a hand. We gave them what they wanted, helped them re-establish contact with the mothership and their leader offered to introduce us to the Elder. I’d say that qualifies as a success.”

Desdemona seemed vaguely impressed. “I’d be inclined to agree with you. However, we mustn’t forget that this is only the first stage of their operation. When do you meet the Elder?”

“Danse- that’s the name of their paladin- told us they’d have the transmitter up and running in a few days. But he said we can take our time to prepare.”

“Alright. That’s good. You should get some rest. Today’s been a long day for you, I’m sure. I think Tom has some fetch-and-carry quests for you but we won’t be sending you out on anything too taxing.”

“Thanks.”

“You deserve it.”

They left Desdemona to her work, and went to see Tom. His corner of HQ was plastered in what looked like blueprints and pages of complex equations.

“Hey man! Boy am I glad to see you. You see what I got goin’ on here?” Tom was as lively as ever as he pushed up his strange goggles and bounced towards the, gesturing around himself. “I looked at that thing your buddy gave you. See, it was alright, and it got the basic shit across but I had to tweak things, y’know, a screw here, a few extra numbers there to balance everything out and I think I put together a working schematic.” He unrolled a bit of paper. On it was a drawing of a set of devices, heavily labelled in scrawling, slanted writing. “See what we’ve got here, okay, is in order to get it to work you’re gonna need a few bits and pieces. First things first is the reflector platform. That's what you gotta stand on. Then we got the beam emitter- this is where things get proper scientific- that's what’s gonna get all of you from A to B, yeah? The relay dish intercepts the signal and diverts it back to the platform and, and then lastly we got the control console. That’s mine, man. And I’m gonna get you there and back again no problem.” He grinned. “Fuck, this is so cool. Using the info on the chip I figured out how to get into the relay, so all we gotta do is build this baby and we’re good to go.”

Nate nodded. “Looks good. So I assume we’ve got a shopping list of stuff we need.”

“Actually, we got most of it already. I’m having it shipped out to Mercer Safehouse. There’s- what? Four things we need? But they’re pretty specialist stuff. Only gonna be found in a few places. Here.” He pressed a piece of paper with more messy handwriting, as well as a few sketches of high-tech looking things into Nate’s hand. “That’s what we need. Take it to the Safehouse. I hear you’re good at building things, man, so if I could get a hand with the dirty work that’d be much obliged.”

“I can do that. Thanks, Tom.”

“No problem, man. This is the best project I’ve had in years.”

 

It was dark by the time they left. There was a faint chill in the air, and it seeped through MacCready’s jacket. Nate pored over the bit of paper as they walked, reading it by the light of his pipboy.

“So. How hard is it gonna be?”

“Not very, I don’t think. Some of these places are places I’ve already been, so they’ll be easy enough.”

MacCready nodded. “That’s good. We could do with an easy job at this point. I feel like we’ve been working ourselves to death a little bit.”

Nate tucked the bit of paper into his jacket, slipping his hands into his pockets for warmth. “Sorry.”

“Huh?”

“If this is all too much. I guess with all my determination to get stuff done, I didn’t really realise how much work it was.”

“It keeps me occupied.” MacCready looked down at the dirt, stepping over a small pile of trash. “It’s not like I’m not motivated. I am. But, you know, everyone needs a break from time to time.”

“If I tried to take a break I’d just feel bad about it. I’d spend the whole time worrying about what I should be doing. I mean, he’s my _son_. If I’m not fighting every possible second to get him back, what kind of a father am I?”

MacCready nodded. “Yeah. I get it. But, you know, depriving yourself of sleep or whatever can affect your fighting ability. Makes you slow.”

“I don’t deprive myself of sleep. You know that, you sleep with me.” He grinned at his partner.

“True.” He smiled back. “Hey… Does it feel, I don’t know…” He stopped, wondering how to word it. “Does it feel to you like something’s coming?”

Nate frowned. “Something’s coming?”

“You know. Like… an event. A fight. Maybe even a war.”

Nate was silent for a moment, thinking. “I don’t know. To me it kind of feels like this place is a constant war.” He bit his lip, pensive. “What makes you say that?”

MacCready supposed that made sense. Nate didn’t have any sense of what ‘normal’ was in the Commonwealth. Normal to him was peace, true peace. Something the Commonwealth never had. “It feels like a lot of very powerful groups of people are showing up not too far from each other. I mean, I’ve got no idea how long the Institute has been around but they’ve only started being a common topic of conversation recently. And what with the Brotherhood showing up in their oversized hot air balloon.” He thought for a moment. “I suppose the Railroad’s been around for a while, but I didn’t know they were real until we went to see them ourselves. And even you. Coming out from a Vault that’s been sealed for two centuries, getting the Minutemen back together, and actually shaping them into what might be a fighting force. That’s a lot of powerful people to have in one place, with a lot of conflicting interests. And if there’s one thing I know about power, it’s that if you put too many big, strong people in one place, and all of them want things done their way, you’re gonna start a fight. Something’s gonna happen, and something tells me we’re going to be right in the middle of it.”

“Hm.” Nate looked up at the sky. The stars were out, though the moon was only a thin crescent. “Maybe.”

“Doesn’t that scare you?”

“Not really. Honestly, it feels like not a hell of a lot can scare me any more. Not after everything I’ve been through.”

“I just hope the right people win.” MacCready mused. “For once.”

“If there’s anything I can do about it,” Nate stated with soft determination, “They will.”


	17. In Sickness and in Health

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes the tiniest of mistakes, the most insignificant of actions can lead to much more serious problems than either of them ever considered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright I'm going to apologise in advance, but once I got this idea in my head I couldn't get rid of it. I'm a horrible, horrible person, I know, but I've wanted to write this since about chapter 6 or 7. Also, I'm taking part in Sole Party on tumblr! If you don't know what that is, it's basically an event going on this week dedicated to allowing people to introduce their sole survivors to their followers. If you want to read my entries head over to Nate's tag on my tumblr (same name as my ao3 account). Please, ask questions, interact, it's all very much appreciated. 
> 
> Finally, this chapter will be gory. If you are offended by that sort of subject matter, I'd rather you didn't read it than read it and be in anyway displeased by the content. And yes, it's probably worse than chapters 3 and 5.

It was nice to get a full night's sleep, in a soft bed. By the time the pair of them got back to Covenant, stripped off and climbed into bed, MacCready found himself to be exhausted. The feeling of sheets and pillows on his sore body was amazing, and he realised just how long he and Nate had been on their feet. Nate was out in seconds, or so it seemed, his breathing low and slow. MacCready rested his head on his pillow, listening to his fiancé's soft breaths, and was quickly taken by sleep.

 

He had no idea how long they'd slept, but he got the feeling it was longer than normal. He supposed it made sense, all things considered. Nate was snoring, laid out on his back. MacCready didn't want to wake him up; he needed the rest. The merc laid back down, closing his eyes again and pulling the sheets around his shoulders. His mind wandered. He thought of the Brotherhood. Would he and Nate need to hide their relationship? They were sure to ask questions about the slim silver ring resting around Nate's finger. Unless he took it off. MacCready found he very much didn't like that idea, and besides, he was fairly sure Nate wouldn't do that, so instead he found himself wondering how the uptight soldiers would react. Would they see it as a liability? A risk to their effectiveness as soldiers? Or worse, would they disagree with the relationship itself? Was it worth blowing the operation over? In the grand scheme of things, probably not, but still MacCready's mind insisted to him that it absolutely was, and that the Railroad could stick it where the sun don't shine. He then reminded himself that this was a purely hypothetical situation and most likely wouldn't happen.

He must have dozed, because next thing he knew he was startled out of sleep by Nate's stirring. He almost resented the motion, having once more made himself comfortable, but when he felt a warm touch run gently from the nape of his neck down the line of his spine, he opened his eyes and rolled over, looking his lover in the eye.

"Ah. So you are awake then." Nate's voice came out low and content.

"Mmm. Have been for a while." He pressed a kiss to Nate's forehead. "I let you sleep though. Seems like you needed it."

Nate sighed happily. "Yeah. I feel better now. You sleep well?"

"Well enough." MacCready ran his fingers through Nate's hair, absent mindedly playing with it. "Are we going out looking for those things you needed today?"

"If you don't mind." Nate shut his eyes, seeming to enjoy the attention.

"Nah. Get it out of the way."

Nate nodded. "Alright."

 

They took their time with getting up and dressed, making the most of the lack of urgency in their mission. They ate a good breakfast, though it was closer to lunch, and put together what little supplies they would need for their mission. Before they could leave, MacCready was interrupted in his goings about by a hand on his shoulder. When he turned to meet the warm eyes of Preston Garvey, he frowned a little, confused.

"What's up?"

"I wanted to talk to you. One to one."

Preston's tone was a little heavy, and it weighed on MacCready. He felt a familiar sense of guilt in his gut, and he was suddenly nervous.

"Oh. Okay."

Preston seemed to be able to tell his discomfort, because his expression softened slightly. "Don't worry. I'm not calling you out to start anything. I just feel like there are things that both of us need to say if we're gonna be living in close quarters for a while." He looked away for a moment. "Come on. Let's find somewhere quiet."

 

They ended up around the back of Covenant, perched on a fallen log. Here they could talk without interruption, or so they hoped, anyway.

"I would have done this sooner," Preston began, "but obviously you two have been busy with whatever the hell it is you've been doing, and, well, I only really figured it out just before you left for the Glowing Sea." He paused, and MacCready wasn't sure if he was expecting the merc to respond, or what he wanted him to respond with. "I trust Nate. I would- I have- put my life in his hands. And I trust his judgment. So I believe that having you by his side is a good decision. I just need... closure, I guess." He met MacCready's eyes. "You were there, weren't you? I'm not imagining things."

In MacCready's mind, a vision of bloodshed played. He recalled the panic in his thoughts as he left it behind, begging no one to notice the cowardly sniper turning tail. In the Gunners, desertion meant death. He half expected the pain of a bullet to explode from between his shoulder blades. A wound in the back. A craven's death. But he didn't. Even when in his fear he tripped, sprawling in the dirt. He remembered scrambling to his feet, only to hear voices. Looking up, only to see a ragtag group moving towards him, away from the fight. He remembered the angry yell, and the scent of ozone. Skittering to his feet and running again, getting away before he could be killed.

"Yeah. I was there."

"You ran."

MacCready nodded, staring at the dirt. "Soon as they started pulling weapons on kids. Families. I couldn't..." He sniffed. "I knew they weren't good people. But that was just barbaric. I don't- I don't understand how someone can look at a kid- someone so small, and so harmless- and pull the trigger." His boot scuffed the dirt, leaving smooth patches underneath it. "If I stopped shooting, or tried to stop them, I would've gotten in trouble. So yeah, I cut my losses, and I ran. Figured I at least had a chance of getting away unnoticed like that."

Preston was quiet. "You made the right choice."

The merc laughed bitterly. "No I didn't. The right choice would have been to try to stop it happening. Or better yet, to never have let it happen in the first place. Running away didn't make me a better person- you know that, because you would have killed me if you had the chance. It just made me a coward who didn't have the balls to be good and didn't have the stomach to be bad." He frowned, trying to repress the outburst that was threatening to happen. "I'm sorry. I killed a lot of people that day. I wouldn't blame you if you wanted to put a gun to my head and end me right here and now. But I promise- I swear to you that I will do right by Nate. Nate's a good person, and next to him I can be too. At least I hope I can. All I want is to be happy. To get my son back and live in peace with him and Nate and everyone here. So... so I'm sorry, I can't fix it, but it's in the past. I promise you it's in the past."

After a moment, Preston nodded. "Thank you." MacCready looked up. Preston wasn't looking at him, and his expression was sad and painful. "I know this might make me sound like a bad person, but I needed to hear that. I needed to know you felt guilty about it."

"No, that makes sense." He sighed. "It's the least I deserve."

There was a moment of silence.

"That's all. I'm glad we could clear the air. Let's put it behind us."

MacCready nodded. "Thanks." Preston smiled, and clapped him on the shoulder.

"Now get back to Nate. I'm sure he's waiting for you."

 

"What was that about?" Nate asked as MacCready returned.

"Quincy. Clearing the air."

The redhead frowned. "Is everything alright between you?"

"I think so. I hope so."

He nodded. "Good. You ready to go?"

"Yeah." He shouldered his rifle. "Let's do this."

They headed off. Nate had a vague idea of where they might find what they were looking for, and so they set off exploring. The mission started without a hitch. They found their first item in the third building they searched, without encountering too much resistance. The fourth building seemed inhabited by a host of super mutants. The building stank of half rotted meat, the place showing telltale signs of the green horrors in the piles of bloody bones and bags of various meats hung about. MacCready covered his nose with his hand.

"In and out. We probably don't need to engage them unless they attack us first." He muttered. Nate gave him a sideways look. “What? We don’t have to fight everything we come across. We can be done with this in half- no, a quarter of the time if we don’t.”

Nate sighed, then conceded. “Alright. Fine.”

They made their way through the building as quietly as possible. Somehow, they managed to get through at least half the building without being seen. Several times, they’d heard one of the things shout out that they’d heard something, but not once did they come face to face with one. MacCready was beginning to think they might actually succeed, that was until they hit the third floor. MacCready spotted the tripwire a split second too late, calling out “ _Nate-!_ ”

The explosion was too loud, and instantly, MacCready heard rough voices calling each other to arms. First priority though…

“Nate! Are… Are you alright?” He ran to his fiancé’s side, coughing as he inhaled dust and smoke kicked up by the bomb. Nate hissed in pain, clutching his leg. The material of his jeans was ripped and bloody, the flesh beneath a mess.

“Frag bomb.” He spat from between gritted teeth. MacCready heard loud footsteps and angry yelling.

“Can you fight?”

“Get- get me a stimpak.”

MacCready glanced over the wound, his face twisting slightly. It didn’t look pretty. He nodded, and handed Nate one of the syringes he had in his pocket. As Nate administered the medicine, he readied his rifle. Behind him, Nate staggered to his feet. He gasped as he put his weight on his injured leg, but stood firm, drawing his sword. Just in time, too, as it was barely seconds before a host of super mutants bore down on them. Nate ran past him, engaging them as easily as though he hadn’t been clutching at a painful injury seconds before. Once again, MacCready thanked whoever might be listening for the magic of stimpaks.

He fired off his rifle over and over, backing up as the enemy got too close for comfort. He must have killed six at least, with Nate backing his fifth, the last, seemingly, into a corner and finally landing a fatal blow. They gasped for breath for a moment, then made eye contact.

“There. That didn’t take too long, did it?” Nate grinned, then grimaced. MacCready frowned, running to his side as he sagged a little.

“Hey. You get hurt?” Nate leaned on him, his expression mildly confused.

“No. Leg.”

“Oh.” MacCready looked down at the injured limb. He confessed he couldn’t see much through the blood and ripped fabric. “It’s probably nothing. Stimpaks do take a little time to work.”

“Mmm.” Nate nodded, then stood up again. “It seems to be working okay. Let’s move.”

 

Unfortunately, that building didn’t host the material they were looking for, so they pushed on. It took them a few hours to accumulate everything they needed, and three more buildings were explored. At last, they had everything on the list. Nate packed the last item- some sort of scanner, it looked like- into his bag. Once done, he closed his eyes for a second, taking a breath. MacCready watched him, frowning a little in mild concern.

“Nate?”

“Huh?” The redhead looked up, blinking. Then he shook his head. “Sorry. It’s nothing.”

“Is something bothering you?”

“Nah.” Nate stood up, and smiled at him. “Head rush, that's all.”

“Right.” He watched a split second longer, then let it go, since he did seem to be fine. “Have we gotta take this stuff to Mercers now?”

“Yup. You know what that means.”

“Ugh.” MacCready grimaced. “I hate getting wet. Why did they have to set up shop on that island?”

“Makes sense to me. It’s offshore, which means it won’t be traversed by Commonwealth citizens, it's isolated, so easy to defend, and that siren thingy keeps unpleasant wildlife away.”

“Yeah, but you gotta admit, it’s a pain to get there.”

“True.”

 

The walk there was fairly uneventful. MacCready walked slightly ahead of Nate, and they chatted steadily about this and that. Nate still seemed slightly distracted, sometimes taking a few seconds to respond, prompting MacCready to repeat himself. The merc couldn’t help but wonder if there was something on his mind, but he refrained from asking. He knew that Nate would tell him if he was really concerned about something. At least… he hoped he would. When they reached the shore closest to the island, they stopped. MacCready could see the island from where he stood, far enough away for mist to obscure its details. Nate unloaded as much of his stuff as he could into a nearby hiding spot, and marked it with a piece of chalk. MacCready saw him shiver a little against the chilly sea air, and he pulled his own jacket about himself, knowing he was going to get a lot colder very shortly.

With as little weight as possible weighing the pair down, they headed to the water. Nate had taken his jacket off, and had encouraged MacCready to do the same, stating that when they returned they’d want something warm to wrap about themselves, as well as it reducing their weight. Nate was the first to the water’s edge, using his hands to steady himself as he slid down the rocks to sea level. MacCready followed, jumping down without too much trouble. The merc looked down at the lapping water, steeling himself, then waded in after his companion.

He was right; the water was frigid, and it seeped into his clothes horribly. But he followed Nate, first wading, then lapsing into a slow but steady breaststroke when the water got too deep to walk. The rhythm of his strokes was enough of a distraction to keep him from dwelling on the cold. He just focused on that, his breathing, and reaching the island ahead of them.

It felt like a while before they reached the other side, but not a ridiculously long time. MacCready was first to reach the bank, and for a moment he was worried, before he saw Nate stumble out of the water, presumably tripping on a rock or something. Being out of the water felt even colder than being in it as a slight breeze shifted his sodden clothes. He shivered.

“C-Come on. Let’s d-drop off the kit and go back.” Nate told him, now visibly shaking. MacCready nodded, grateful that he’d listened to Nate and left his jacket, warm and dry, waiting for him.

 

The caretaker of the safehouse was there, and he surveyed the pair of them as they approached. “Evenin’ Charmer. Bullseye.” Nate nodded a polite response. “Don’t s’pose you two are stayin’, are ya?”

“N-Nah.” Nate walked to the workshop and unloaded the kit. “I’ve got some preparing to do before we build this thing. But I’ll be back before too long.”

“Just droppin’ shit off then? Not gonna stay an’ warm up?”

“No point. We’re just going straight back across. Besides I- I want to get home.”

“Aight then.” The surly caretaker seemed mildly put out. MacCready didn’t blame him; being all alone in this place, with only occasional visitors who did little more than pass through must suck. But he didn’t press the issue, and all too soon they were both back in the water. Once on the opposite bank, MacCready rushed to their cache, pulling out his jacket and wrapping it about himself gratefully. He sighed, then looked behind him. “Nate?” He didn’t see his companion, so he headed back to the rocks, looking over them down at the bank. Nate was sat on a rock, seeming out of breath. “Hey, Nate!” The redhead didn’t respond, so MacCready slid down again to join him. “Is something wrong?”

“I… I just need rest.” He murmured. “Rest and warm. Let’s go home.”

MacCready didn’t buy it. “You’ve been acting off for ages. If something’s wrong just tell me.”

Nate sighed. “I might be coming down with something.”

“What? Like an illness?”

“Maybe.”

“You’re telling me we just swam through a freezing cold sea whilst you think you might be getting sick? Are you nuts?”

“It needed to be done.” Nate insisted. “And it’s done now. So let’s go.”

“Hold on.” He stood up and faced Nate, placing the back of his hand to the other man’s forehead. Despite having just left cold water, his skin was feverishly hot. “Nate, you’re burning up. Why didn’t you say anything earlier?”

“I don’t know. It came on really suddenly.” MacCready sighed. As a father, he knew how to deal with fevers and illnesses like that- the normal variety, at least. He knew Nate had a habit of pushing through discomfort and injury, but in this case they did need to keep moving before he could do anything to help.

“As soon as we get back I’m going to make sure you get better, okay?”

Nate nodded, and got to his feet, seeming slightly unsteady, but quickly righting himself. They retrieved their stuff and got moving again. At one point, Nate stopped, dug through their bags to find something, and jabbed it into his thigh, sighing in relief.

“What was that?” MacCready asked, concerned.

“Med-X.”

“You’re in pain?”

“Only a bit. It’s nothing. It’ll go away.”

This only strengthened MacCready’s resolve to get Nate home as quickly as possible, but Nate seemed to be moving slower than normal. MacCready was beginning to rethink his plan. “I think we need to see Carrington.”

“Doctor Carrington?” Nate’s voice was unsteady. “Don’t waste our caps.”

“This came on really quickly. Nate, you’re ill. More ill than just a normal illness would make you this fast. It might be something serious and I’m not taking any chances.” He looked up. “Besides, it’s getting dark, and HQ is closer than Covenant.”

“I’m… I’m fine.”

“No, you are _not_ fine. We’re going to get you checked up.”

Nate didn’t say anything else, so MacCready took it as an acquiescence, and changed course. He made sure to stay close to Nate, and not move too quickly for him to keep up, despite every nerve telling him to speed up. He kept looking back, and saw that Nate was walking funny, putting not quite all his weight on his left leg. _Is his injury still bothering him?_ He asked himself. _Worse, is it infected?_ That could explain the sudden onslaught of illness. But… They used a stimpak on it. He’d never had a problem with injuries healed by stimpaks before. In which case, they definitely needed Carrington, much as he hated to admit it.

“RJ.” He heard Nate behind him, his voice breathy. “I… don’t think I can get to HQ.”

_Oh. Oh no._ MacCready stopped, turning. Nate was leaning against a nearby lamp post, his eyes half closed.

“You need to.” The merc ran to his lover’s side. “Hey. Eyes open.” He clicked his fingers in front of Nate’s face. The redhead looked at him. His eyes weren’t focusing properly, and his breathing was shallow. “Oh God. Okay. Lean on me. We can make it.” He took Nate’s arm, resting it around his shoulders, and wrapped his arm around Nate’s waist, supporting him. He could feel Nate’s shaking. They made it only about ten metres before Nate’s leg gave out beneath him. MacCready was almost dragged down with him as his entire weight was suddenly put on the smaller man. “No no no no…” MacCready felt panic in his chest as he lowered Nate as gently as he could onto the path. “Don’t pass out on me… Please don’t pass out on me.” He examined the man. His cheeks were flushed, sweat on his forehead, and worst of all, his eyes were shut. _Damnit…_ MacCready shook Nate, trying to get some response out of him. Nate murmured something unintelligible, but didn’t open his eyes. MacCready checked his pulse, pressing two fingers into the soft spot below Nate’s jaw. His heartbeat was fast. Too fast. That, coupled with his shallow breathing, worried MacCready deeply. It meant that this sickness was serious. Maybe even fatal. _What do I do…?_ He couldn’t go get help. He couldn’t leave Nate here on his own where any raider, Gunner or other undesirable could get him. He knew he wasn’t strong enough to carry Nate there, either. He needed Nate to wake up. To force him to open his eyes and keep going. Swallowing to wet his suddenly dry throat, his eyes flitted to the bag containing everything they’d scavenged from the buildings. _Desperate times call for desperate measures…_ he thought to himself, _Please don’t hate me for this later._ With that, he dug through the pack, until his hand closed around the item he was looking for. Sending a thousand prayers to whoever was listening, he uncapped the needle and stuck it into the side of Nate’s throat, injecting the drug into his system. _Please work…_ It took a moment, but then Nate gasped, and his eyes opened. “Oh thank God. Get up. We need to go, _now._ ” Nate’s eyes rested on him, looking frenzied.

“It _fucking hurts._ ” He spat. MacCready stood, tugging on Nate’s hand.

“I know. That’s why we need to _go_.” He managed to get Nate only for the other man to tear his hand away, stumbling almost drunkenly on unsteady feet. Ignoring this, MacCready took their stuff and headed off, silently begging Nate to follow. Fortunately, Nate seemed to do this, his gaze flitting frantically about as he did so.

“Hurts.” He snapped again.

“I know.”

“I need med-X.”

“You’ve already had some.”

“I need _more._ ”

MacCready sighed. “You’ve already got enough drugs in your system. You don’t need any more.”

“Give me the bag.”

“No.”

“I said. _Give. Me. The bag._ ”

“And I said no.” He sped up his pace, hearing Nate make a sound of displeasure not unlike a growl behind him. He felt a tugging, and he stumbled backwards, surprised at the force with which Nate was pulling on the bag in his desire to have it. “Stop it.”

“Then give me the med-X.”

“Nate you will overdose if you take any more.” He turned to face the redhead. He was panting and flushed, his only energy now coming from the unnatural edge the psycho was giving him. He tried to forcibly take their stash again, until MacCready shoved him away. “We don’t have time for this!”

“Then _give me the bag!_ ” Nate shouted, lashing out. MacCready staggered back, unable to believe quite what had just happened. He pressed a hand to his face, right below his eye. Where Nate had struck him. There was a silence, broken only by Nate’s heavy breathing. MacCready looked up at him, ignoring the pain that was bringing a tear to his eye. Nate met his gaze, holding his anger, but not making any more moves.

“Okay.” MacCready let his hand fall back to his side. “I’m going to assume that was just the drug, so I’m not going to get mad. But you…” He took a deep breath. “You’re coming with me. _Now_.” With that, he grabbed Nate’s wrist and all but dragged him along. He felt Nate attempt to pull away a few times, but MacCready held on tightly, and the fight seemed to have left the redhead. MacCready hoped that meant he felt guilty, even through the haze of the drug and illness combined.

 

It took them longer to reach HQ than MacCready would have liked. They had to take detours to avoid conflict, and with every moment that passed MacCready could see the energy leaving Nate’s body once again. He progressed from holding Nate’s wrist to supporting his arm, to assisting him the same way he had before Nate first collapsed. He was out of breath from supporting Nate’s weight by the time they crossed the threshold of the Church. He murmured encouragement to Nate as he helped him down the stairs and into the tunnel, trying to keep him conscious for just a little longer. When they reached the end, he sat Nate against the wall, where his eyes struggled to stay open. As quickly as his hands would move, MacCready entered the password. As soon as the door opened, he ran in.

“HELP! I need help!” Almost every agent in the room looked up.

“Bullseye?” Desdemona frowned. “What-”

“Nate! I mean- Charmer. He’s- he’s sick.” Carrington dropped what he was doing, approaching MacCready.

“Where is he?”

“Just outside. He can’t walk.”

The doctor motioned for a couple of agents to follow him. They carried Nate in ungracefully, lying him down on the bed Carrington reserved for his patients. He immediately got to work, checking Nate’s vitals, measuring his temperature and shining a torch in his eyes. Nate didn’t react much, except to mutter under his breath words no one could make out. “Tell me what happened.”

“I don’t- don’t really know. He was fine this morning.”

“When did symptoms start showing?”

MacCready thought back through the panic clouding his cognition. “Uh… Maybe… just after we retrieved the sensor? He started acting spacey then.”

“Fever, rapid pulse, disorientation…” The doctor mused, “And it took only a few hours to set in?”

“Maybe since… I don’t know, three-ish? Mid afternoon.”

“Has he thrown up at all?”

“No… No I don’t think so.”

“Eaten anything?”

MacCready shook his head. “Not since this morning. Neither of us have.”

“Has he sustained any injuries recently?”

“Uh… Yes. He set off a frag grenade earlier. But he used a stimpak immediately.”

“Immediately?” Carrington looked up. “He didn’t check for debris in the wound?”

“He couldn’t- There were super mutants. We didn’t have time.”

“ _Shit_.” Carrington swore under his breath. “Where is this injury?”

“His leg.” He gestured to Nate’s ripped and bloody jeans. Carrington retrieved a pair of scissors and cut what remained of the clothing away, revealing the limb underneath. MacCready drew in a sharp breath. It looked as though a massive, ugly bruise sprawled under the skin on the side of Nate’s shin, painfully red at the edges, phasing into a much darker colour directly under where the wound had been.

“Well I think we can say what caused the illness. Didn’t he complain of pain? Why did neither of you check this?”

MacCready felt ashamed, and intensely stupid. “He… He said he hurt, but he didn’t tell me what hurt. I assumed he had flu, or something like that.” He pulled his gaze away from the nastily mottled flesh. “You can fix it, right?”

“You can’t fix dead.”

‘ _What?!_ ” MacCready felt a hot flash of panic, fresh in his veins. “He’s… he’s going to _die_?”

“That’s not what I said.” The doctor sighed. “I meant the tissue is dead. You see the black colour in the middle there?” MacCready swallowed back bile, feeling faintly sick as he nodded. “That’s necrosis. Dead tissue.”

“How can you be sure?”

Carrington gave him a look that told him how much of an idiot he thought he was. “Like this.” He put pressure on the skin around the wound, where it was red and inflamed. Nate gave a yelp of pain, his body jerking away from the contact. Carrington let him settle down, then repeated the action right over the scar, where the tissue was darkest. He got no reaction whatsoever. MacCready let out a shaky breath.

“So what can we do about it?” He asked, fearing the answer.

“Remove the dead tissue.”

“You- You’re going to cut his leg off?”

“Unless you want to watch your boyfriend die of sepsis, it’s the only way to get rid of the infection.”

_Jesus…_ He looked up at Nate. His eyes were still half open. MacCready wondered if he was aware of what was going on around him. MacCready stood beside him, putting a hand against his cheek. His skin was hot and slick with sweat. The contact seemed to get Nate’s attention, as he looked up at MacCready. He said something in a voice too quiet and slurred for MacCready to understand. The merc leaned closer.

“What was that?”

“What’re th’y doing?” Nate’s breaths were weak against his cheek.

“Um… They’re going to fix you.” MacCready replied, not wanting to break the news to him. Nate made a noise in the back of his throat.

“You sai… said cut m’ leg off. Can’t… Can’t do that.”

“I think we have to.” MacCready took his shaking hand, still trying to process it himself. Nate’s eyes widened, and he attempted to pull away.

“No.”

“We have to.”

“ _No._ ” He repeated, louder this time. Carrington looked up from the tools he was preparing.

“Am I going to need to restrain him?” He asked in a voice too calm for MacCready to be happy with.

“I don’t think so.” MacCready looked down at him again. “Please, Nate. You’ll die if they don’t.”

The rhythm of Nate’s breathing had changed, still shallow, but more panicked now. “RJ don’t let them.” He flinched as Carrington tested the area around the wound, probably trying to figure out how far the infection had spread. He muttered something to himself and marked a line partway up Nate’s thigh. _That far?_ The doctor tied a tourniquet just below the line.

“Aren’t you- don’t you have any anaesthetic?”

Carrington looked up from what he was doing. “We’re already low on supplies as it is. Do you think I have caps to waste on unnecessary things like anaesthetic? No, it’s not pleasant, but it does the trick.”

“Can’t we put him under?” MacCready felt Nate’s grip on his fingers tighten, weak as it was.

“Unless you feel like hitting him particularly hard over the head, no. The best I can do is a syringe of med-X, if you have-”

“No.” MacCready interrupted. “He already took some.”

“How long ago?”

“An hour maybe. Hour and a half.”

“Hm. Anything else I should know about?”

“He, uh, I gave him a hit of psycho on the way here. To keep him on his feet.”

“You gave him _psycho_?” The doctor exclaimed, incredulous. “You’re lucky his heart didn’t give out on him. No wonder he’s in such a bad state.”

The merc looked down at Nate, a twist of guilt in his gut. “I didn’t know what else to do.”

Carrington took a deep breath, as though steadying himself. “No matter. It’s done now.” With that, he picked up a scalpel. MacCready had to look away as he started, finding arteries and veins and sealing them off. Instead he focused on Nate, trying to keep him distracted.

“Hey, uh, remember earlier, when I told you not to pass out on me? Yeah, I, I take that back. Go for it. You need sleep.” Nate was trembling, and making low gasping sounds at the pain, but so far he seemed relatively okay, as okay as he could be in the situation. But unlike earlier, he didn’t seem to be fighting to stay conscious anymore. _Typical._

“RJ. F-Feels wrong. What-?”

“Does it hurt?”

Nate nodded, his face twisting into a grimace. MacCready smelt the sharp scent of antiseptic, and chanced a glance down. There was blood, yes, but MacCready got the feeling there was going to be a lot more before too long. Carrington was wiping down the site of the incisions and his tools with the strongly smelling fluid, preparing for the main part of the operation.

MacCready wasn’t sure what was worse; the knowledge of what was happening, though he couldn’t bring himself to watch, or the way Nate progressed from gasps to whimpers to screams of pain. He clasped Nate’s hand in his own, knowing that if the man was at full strength, he’d likely injure his fingers with the force of his grip. His ring pressed uncomfortably into MacCready’s skin. _Please… Let him pass out. Don’t make him endure this._ But, if anything, it seemed like the pain was keeping him awake, shocking the rest from his system. And MacCready swore- he swore he could _smell_ it. The metallic scent of blood, the antiseptic and something sickly, almost sweet in a way that made his stomach turn. The back of his throat burned. He wasn’t sure how long he stood like that, focusing on Nate’s face, holding his hand tightly and whispering whatever comforts he could as his partner screamed. Eventually, he quietened, either too tired to carry on or too far gone to feel it.

“You’re doing so well.” MacCready pushed his hair, damp with sweat from his forehead. Against his better judgment, he looked at what the doctor was doing. He felt lightheaded and more than a little sick as he saw blood and raw muscle and bone. But the worst seemed to be over. Carrington had put aside the bloodied instrument MacCready could only describe as a hacksaw in favour of a smaller, more precise tool, and he seemed to be cleaning up the wound. MacCready pressed his lips to Nate’s fingers, tasting sweat. “Nearly over. I promise you it’s nearly over.”

It couldn’t have been much longer. Carrington sealed off the wound with neat stitches in a cross shape, wiped off the worst of the blood and cleaned the whole thing with antiseptic fluid once again.

“That’s the most I can do for him.” The doctor stated, wiping his hands clean with a cloth. “With any luck, the only infection left will be what is in his blood, and his immune system should be able to take care of that.” He glanced up, calling out, “Tom.”

“Yeah?” The engineer came over. MacCready saw him wince at the sight before them.

“He’s going to need a prosthetic. Can you take care of that?”

“Sure thing. But, uh…” He swallowed uncomfortably. “I’m gonna need some, uh, some measurements.”

“Of course. Do what you will.”

As Tom took measurements of the length and weight of the limb, and Carrington cleaned and sterilised his tools, MacCready stayed by Nate’s side. The man seemed to have finally fallen unconscious, his breathing still irregular but a little deeper and more even than it had been. _You’re alive. You’ll be fine._ He was startled out of his reverie by a hand on his shoulder. He glanced behind him, and saw Deacon. The man looked pale, and his expression was solemn.

“Here. You look like you need it.” He rested a chair by Nate’s bedside, and handed him a can of purified water. MacCready took it, grateful, and sank down into the seat. He didn’t realise how sore his feet were until he did so.

“Thanks.”

“He’ll live.” Deacon assured him. “Carrington might be a little surly but he knows what he’s doing.”

“What does this mean, though? Will he be able to keep going on missions?”

“Maybe after some recovery time. You know, losing a limb doesn’t necessarily end your career. Just… puts it on hold for a bit.”

_God, Nate will hate that._ MacCready thought to himself.

“I assume you’re going to stay with him all night.” Carrington interrupted them. MacCready nodded. “In that case, there’s no point in me staying up too. Wake me if his skin goes cold, or if he starts struggling to breathe. Otherwise, wait for the fever to break.”

“Woah, Doc, you can’t expect him to get zero sleep.” Deacon gestured at MacCready. “That ain’t healthy either.”

“No, it’s okay. I’m not gonna get much even if I try.”

Carrington gestured in a way that said _See?_ Deacon gave him a glare, then patted MacCready on the shoulder again.

“Come get me if you wanna take shifts.” MacCready nodded, and gave him a thankful smile.

Slowly, the place went quiet as everyone around him went to sleep. MacCready, still holding Nate’s hand with one of his own, gently touched his cheek, just below his eye. It was sore, and he wondered if it would mark up. His stomach rumbled at him, but the thought of eating made him feel slightly nauseous, so he resigned himself to being hungry. Instead, he rested his chin on his hands, clasped around Nate’s, and settled in for what was sure to be a long night of worry.


	18. Learning Curve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's hard, having to start over. To be knocked back to being helpless and weak. And even the most resilient people can be chipped away, if put through enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A brief note.  
> After publishing this chapter I was contacted by the lovely allxthexwords, who is helping me write this properly. I realise that I've taken a risk by writing a disabled character as an abled author but I promise I am taking every precaution to be sure I'm doing it properly. If anything has upset you, please tell me. My readers are precious to me, and I'd hate to lose you. I am always open to changing anything that may be deemed offensive or harmful. 
> 
> Thank you for reading, it means a lot to me.  
> -1thousandminus7
> 
> I confess I suffered a touch of writer's block whilst writing this chapter, but here it is ^_^ Oh, and I considered starting a McHanzo fic (whoops I've never even played Overwatch shhhh), but I am remaining faithful. Though if I have enough time and inspiration I may do both. Maybe.

MacCready would be lying if he said he didn't close his eyes periodically, maybe even doze for a while in short bursts, but then he would jerk back to reality, and once more check Nate's temperature, making sure he was still in relatively stable condition. Late into the night, he gave in and picked from a box of sugar bombs, though he only ate as much as he needed to sate his aching stomach. And he watched. And he waited.

When other people began to stir, he looked up, his eyes sore and his mind heavy. As they got up and back to work, he was mostly ignored, though he did get a few pitying looks and muttered greetings. Honestly, he was grateful for it. He didn't really want to be distracted. Carrington was the first to engage him in proper conversation, asking him if there had been any changes in Nate's condition throughout the night as he went about changing the dressings. MacCready responded that no, nothing much had happened.

“Hey. Bullseye.” MacCready jumped a little at the address, as out of it as he was. Deacon smiled at him from behind his shades. “How’s he doing.”

“Don’t know.” MacCready murmured, eyes downcast. Deacon surveyed him.

“You look terrible.”

MacCready barked a laugh. “No sh- No kidding.”

“Get some sleep.”

The merc looked up. He could have sworn the agent sounded concerned.

“Seriously. You need it. I’ll keep an eye on Charmer. I swear to you I’ll wake you up if anything changes.”

“I don’t know if I can.” MacCready responded bluntly. His mind was too focused on Nate to rest.

“Try. You can have my bunk. It’s not the most comfortable thing in the world but it’s clean enough.” He rested a hand on MacCready’s shoulder, looking down at the redhead lying on the bloodstained bed before them. “I bet you if he wakes up and sees you in this state it’ll be me who’ll get an earful ‘cuz I didn’t make sure you looked after yourself.”

“Yeah.” The merc smiled. “Sounds about right.” He sighed. “Alright. Fine. I’ll try.” He stood, ignoring the head rush he got from doing so, and went over to where Deacon had rested the night before. Lying down, he did have to admit that closing his eyes felt good. Through fuzzy thoughts, he found himself imagining what life would be like from now on. If he and Nate would be able to continue their missions. If they couldn’t, Nate would be miserable. He’d do everything in his power to get back on his feet, so to speak. MacCready had known someone else; a Gunner who’d had her arm taken off in combat. She’d ended up with a crude prosthetic made of scrap metal, and she’d never been able to hold a rifle again. Instead, she’d changed tactics. Used her prosthetic as a melee weapon, and learned how to fight using handguns instead. He supposed that was what Nate was going to have to do. Readjust his way of life to accommodate his… his disability. It felt strange even to think that. That Nate was disabled.

He’d find a way. MacCready was sure of it. He was just that sort of person.

 

He had to be.

 

Perhaps MacCready was more exhausted than he thought, because the fog in his thoughts all too soon overcame him. He awoke with a start when he felt a touch on his arm.

“Sorry! Sorry.” Came a voice as he opened bleary eyes, trying to focus on the person before him. “You didn’t wake up when I yelled at you, so…”

“Deacon.” He grumbled, closing his eyes again. “Piss off.”

“Language.” He swore he could hear the smirk in the other man’s voice. He huffed. “Doc says Charmer’s fever’s broken.” That caught MacCready’s attention, and he sat up.

“Is he awake?”

“Not just yet, but Doc gives it about half an hour. Maybe less.”

“How long was I asleep?”

“Nearly four hours.”

 _Enough for a fairly decent rest._ He got to his feet as Deacon did the same, and looked over to Carrington’s corner. From here, he couldn’t see any difference, but when he approached Nate’s side once more, he saw that the flush was gone from Nate’s cheeks. He didn’t look sick any more. Only asleep.

“Now. He’s bound to take it badly once he wakes.” Carrington told him. “Something tells me you’re probably the best candidate to keep him calm, being that you’re his partner, so when he does wake up, go slowly.”

MacCready nodded. He had experience with trying to keep others calm in times of emotional turmoil, so he felt that, whilst by no means was he prepared, he could at least do his best.

“Oh, and make sure he has something to eat and drink as soon as he wakes up. He’s going to be fairly severely dehydrated.” Carrington gestured towards a small stockpile of basic supplies, including purified water and food on the shelves beside them. “Just take what he needs.”

“Thank you.”

Carrington made a small noise of acknowledgement, then turned away.

 

His estimate was more or less correct. MacCready was picking at his fingernails, bored, when he heard the rhythm of Nate’s breathing change. He looked up as the redhead drew in a deep breath, and shifted, rolling onto his side. MacCready reached out and gently ran his thumb over the scar high on Nate’s cheek, like he did many a time as Nate woke up. The redhead shifted into his touch, making a soft noise of discomfort. He tried to speak, but his voice came out broken and hoarse.

“Head hurts…” His eyes flickered open, and rested on MacCready. Confusion flitted across his features. “Where…?”

“HQ.” MacCready continued to stroke his cheek, trying his hardest to keep the man calm. “We had to come here after you got ill, remember?”

Nate frowned for a moment, then nodded. “Did I pass out?”

“Yeah.”

“Sorry. I should have said something earlier.”

 _You really should._ MacCready thought, but didn’t say aloud. “Nate,” He asked, “How much do you remember?”

“I remember…” Nate’s brows furrowed in confusion. “Feeling awful. And, and my leg hurt. More than it should have.” He attempted to push himself into a sitting position. MacCready grabbed his arms to steady him.

“Woah, woah, slow down.” He attempted to keep Nate’s attention on him, but it was too late. After taking a moment to allow his head to settle, he noticed what was wrong. His expression stilled, even his breathing stopping for a moment. “Nate…” The man in question reached out a trembling hand. It brushed the area covered in bandages, and he hissed in pain. “I wouldn’t touch. You’re not done healing yet.”

Nate didn’t respond at first. Then he drew in a short, sharp breath, and choked out a laugh. “I’m delirious. I’m still sick.” MacCready could see panic in his eyes, just beginning to take hold. He reached for Nate’s hand. “RJ, I’m hallucinating.”

“Nate.” MacCready spoke softly. “Look at me.” Nate ignored him, pulling his hand away and running it over the end of what was left of his leg.

“That’s not…” He tried to speak, but his words caught in his throat, and he had to gasp in another breath.

“ _Nate_.” MacCready took his wrist, pulling it away by force, and turned his head so he looked into his partner’s eyes. “Deep breaths.” Nate’s eyes flicked over him, his breathing shallow and too fast, much like it had been when he was ill.

“It’s not real. Not real…” He said in little more than a whisper.

“I’m gonna need you to breathe.” MacCready kept a hand on the side of his face, doing his best to keep his eyes focused on him. Nate tried to do as told, holding his breath for part-seconds in between gasps in an attempt to regulate them. MacCready could feel him shaking. “You were sick because you had an infection. A really bad one.” MacCready told him. “I almost lost you.”

“RJ I’m not- I’m- Where is my leg?” His voice broke a little at the end of his question, going up an octave. MacCready sighed, his heart heavy.

“Gone.”

“ _Gone_?” Nate choked. “You can’t just- it can’t just be _gone_.” His eyes broke away, staring at the stump. “I can’t-” He sucked in a breath and closed his eyes, then lay back down again.

“Tom’s making you a prosthetic. You will still be able to walk. I promise.”

“…Water.” Nate asked, in the tone of a broken man. MacCready left his side for a moment, then pressed a container of purified water into his hand. He sat up, and cracked it open. He drank in long draughts, and before long, he had finished the whole thing. Wiping his mouth with his hand, he tried to regulate his breathing once more. MacCready let him be, watching him closely as he spent a couple minutes like that, eyes closed, focusing only on evening out his breaths. Eventually, he seemed to fall back into a regular pattern. “…What happened?”

“The bomb. Carrington said you must have had something stuck in the wound when you stimpaked it.”

“ _Fuck_.” Nate cursed under his breath. “I knew I shouldn’t have done that.”

“It’s not your fault.” MacCready told him. “They were going to get us if you didn’t. I couldn’t have held them off on my own.”

Nate was silent. MacCready couldn't tell if he was quiet because he was thinking or because in his head, his world was falling apart. Though he seemed to have recovered from what MacCready could only assume was a panic attack, the way his hand clenched restlessly at the sheets, and his eyes stared off without focus belied his distress. MacCready wasn't entirely sure what to say. He couldn't imagine what must be going through Nate's head, and he wasn't sure he wanted to. What had he expected? Hysterics? Extreme shows of emotion? He knew Nate wasn't like that. He pushed that kind of thing away. But somehow this was worse, because as much as he never displayed his distress, nor was he ever this quiet. Not for long. After he'd had enough of this awful silence, MacCready, unsure of what else he could do, spoke up.

"Hey." Nate blinked, seeming to come back to himself a little. "You okay?" It was a stupid question. He knew it. Nate gave him a look which clearly told him what he thought of that comment. They held each other's gaze for a moment, then laughed. Nate's laugh was soft, sombre, but it was there. And that counted for something.

"No. No I'm really not. I mean, I'm down a leg, for fuck's sake. What am I going to do now?"

MacCready frowned, thinking. "You're going to adjust. Nate, you're not the kind of person who gives up."

"With a liability like this? I'll be killed before I get the chance to adjust."

"No you won't." MacCready replied a little too quickly. "You've got friends who'll protect you."

Nate grimaced. "I don't want to be protected. I'm not helple-" He broke off, his body language tense and bitter.

"You'll recover. You always do." MacCready thought of the week after the deathclaw attack. How quickly he'd seemed like his usual self, despite what he knew would be permanent marks torn across his face and body. "You're weird that way."

Nate laughed again, just a gentle hum in his chest. Then his expression changed again. "How long is it going to take though? Weeks? Months?"

"I don't know." MacCready confessed, "but you'll do it. I won't let you _not_ do it."

Nate gave him a soft smile, then frowned a little. “RJ?”

“Mmm?”

The redhead gestured to his eye. “You’ve got a- is that a bruise?” MacCready put his hand up to the spot, testing the soreness as he pressed down on it.

“Yeah. It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

“Hey. Come here.” He pulled MacCready closer, inspecting the injury. MacCready couldn’t help but laugh.

“Really? You got your leg cut off and you’re worried about me having a bruise?”

“How did you get it?” Nate ignored his remark. MacCready drew back a little, feeling awkward.

“Uh, after you, after you collapsed on me, I couldn’t get you to HQ on my own, so I did the only thing I could think of. You had a thing of psycho in your bag, and I used it on you.”

Nate’s eyes widened slightly, and he pulled his hands back, visibly shifting away.

“Nate, don’t.”

“Are you saying I did that? I _hit_ you?” His voice was soft, ashamed.

“I wouldn’t let you take any more med-X, and when you tried to get it back you accidentally…” It was a lie, but he didn’t want Nate to beat himself up over something that wasn’t his fault.

“RJ, I’m… Sorry.” He looked down at his hands, his fingers clenching and unclenching.

“It’s not your fault. Everyone knows psycho makes you stupidly aggressive. If anything it’s mine for giving it to you in the first place. But I’ve already been chewed out by Carrington for doing that, so…” He trailed off. Nate still didn’t look at him. “It’s just a bruise. It’ll go away in a couple days. And I know you’d never hurt me when you’re in your right mind.”

Nate sighed, then looked up. “So I’m forgiven?”

“Of course you’re forgiven! I was never mad at you in the first place. Except maybe right after it happened. But that was more because you were being a pigheaded idiot than anything else.” Nate laughed softly. “Here.” MacCready kissed him, just a simple, affectionate kiss. “Forget about it, okay?”

“Okay.”

 

They continued to talk,and despite how well their conversation seemed to be going, MacCready couldn't shake the feeling that Nate was barely keeping it together. But then maybe he was just projecting how he believed someone in Nate's situation _should_ be acting. After leaving them alone for a while, presumably to allow for readjustment and mental stabilising, Carrington returned to give him the medical brief.

"I'm going to need to keep you here for another twenty-four hours," He told him, "to make sure complications don't arise." Nate's eyes had lit up at that.

"Only a day?"

"Fortunately, yes." Carrington gave him a smile that didn't quite touch his eyes. "Believe it or not you're not my only patient. Your prosthetic should be done by then. I recommend you get up and about as soon as possible to prevent blood clotting and other issues. You'll have to get accustomed to using it, so the sooner you get on your feet the sooner you can do that. I will warn you, you're likely to get tired more easily when on your feet, so if you're on a long trip, take frequent breaks. And take it off when you sleep, at least when you can risk doing so." He nodded over to where Tinker Tom's workbench sat. MacCready could see him with his goggles on, working over some piece of metal or another. "You'll have to talk to him about specifics concerning the prosthetic itself. Oh, and stretch it out every now and then so the muscles don't lock up. Try lying on your front from time to time."

Nate nodded. "Is that all I need to do?"

"Yes. Your rate of recovery depends entirely on you, I can only do so much."

"Thank you." The redhead smiled. "That's a lot better than I expected."

"Yes. Well. I'm sure it will be no walk in the park, pardon my wording."

"No, that's- that's really good." Nate looked at MacCready. The younger man could see the hope in his expression. "Only a day."

"Yeah." MacCready grinned at him. "You've got this."

"Oh, and Agent Charmer?" Carrington asked.

"Yeah?"

"For God's sake, eat something before you keel over."

 

"Charmer seems to be doing well." Deacon remarked as he sat beside MacCready. Nate was reading what looked like an old book, its binding battered and its pages yellowed and ragged. He had his head and his leg propped up on stacks of pillows, and seemed comfortable enough. MacCready was doing what he always did when bored; cleaning out his rifle, making sure it was still in good condition.

"Yeah. He's pretty good at that. You know, bouncing back."

"What's the good word?"

"Carrington wants him here another day. Then I guess he learns how to walk again. I think it helps that he knows he's going to be up and about after too long." MacCready looked down the barrel of the rifle, checking it for gunpowder residue or other impurities. "I've kinda learned that getting hurt doesn't bother him as long as it's something you can get over."

"I dunno." Deacon looked over to Nate. "Getting your leg sawed off is a pretty big deal."

"He's got hope, I think. And as long as he's got hope he'll pull through."

"Well, major props to him. Don't think I could deal with something like that."

"Yeah." MacCready paused what he was doing, watching as the redhead flipped a page. He truly was remarkable, he thought. With the life he'd lived, most people would have given up a long time ago. MacCready didn't think he'd ever met anyone with Nate's resilience. He wondered if Nate even knew he was doing it. Either way, MacCready was glad he was able to do that. He needed Nate by his side.

 

It was almost evening when Tinker Tom finished the prosthetic. He looked excited as he showed it off, like a kid who was proud of his science project. The limb looked strange, almost like the leg of an early-model synth, with metal framework on display and wires connecting various bits of attached tech.

"I made it special just for you, man." He grinned. "Took your measurements, built it to the same length and weight as the real thing. Should be balanced right, too. 'Course if it ain't right I can fix it up no problem. And see this?" He ran his finger over some of the visible mechanics. "The whole thing's rigged with hydraulic joints. I put a chip in so it'll remember how you move and calibrate itself. Basically the more you use it the more it'll feel and act like a real limb."

"Holy shit, Tom." Nate ran his fingers over the framework. "You can do that?"

"Sure I can." Tom grinned. "If I can build you a working teleporter, I can build you a fuckin' leg. That's easy, man." Then his expression changed, becoming serious. "Take care of it though, yeah? I built it out of the sturdiest shit I could find, but it's not immune to damage."

"Can I get it wet?"

"What? Oh, yeah, it's built for all weathers. I confess, quite a lot of that's made with synth parts, and those things are pretty damn sturdy."

Nate laughed. "Does that make me part synth then?"

"I dunno man. Maybe if we stuck it to you permanently." Tom grinned. "Bet the Brotherhood'd love that, huh?"

That caused MacCready to remember something. "Hey, do you think Danse is waiting for us?"

Nate frowned. "He did say we could take our time if we needed to. I think this qualifies."

"You think he's still gonna let us in?"

"I hope so. Otherwise this mission is a bust." MacCready made an assenting noise, thinking. He wondered if it would come down to him alone. If it did, he thought, he’d have to turn it down. He wasn’t sure he could handle that. “I just need to prove I’m still capable.” Nate murmured, tracing the metal again. MacCready nodded. They could still do this together.

 

The next day, Nate was eager to try to use his new gift. It was all Carrington could do to get him to eat something. The doctor made sure the wound was suitably healed and bound, so that the prosthetic wouldn’t irritate it too much, then, reluctantly, he gave permission for Nate to try it out. Tom showed him how it worked, explaining the straps that held it in place. He fixed it in place, pulling the straps as tight as he could whilst still comfortable, and sat on the edge of the bed.

“How does it feel?” MacCready asked.

“Strange.” Nate tested the limb, moving it as best as he could. It bent when he lifted it, and straightened again when he put it down, but MacCready could tell it wouldn’t move as naturally when he actually stood on it. “Touching the, uh,” He gestured to where flesh stopped and metal began. “There, it feels weird. Like it shouldn’t be able to do that.”

“I guess that makes sense. Is it comfortable?”

“It’s not uncomfortable. Just weird.”

“Alright.” MacCready watched him take a breath. “You ready?” Nate nodded, determination in his expression. MacCready stood in front of him, holding his hands out to help Nate up. The redhead took them, and rose shakily. He overbalanced slightly, falling into MacCready’s arms, but quickly steadied himself. He swayed a little, and shifted the limb. The metal scraped the stone ground with a sharp noise as he moved it into a position that could better take his weight. Then, with only mild hesitation, he let go of MacCready, standing straight. MacCready watched him wobble for a moment, then shift again and seem to find his balance. He broke into a grin.

“Easy.”

“Yeah? Does it hurt at all?”

“A bit. But that’ll probably go away after a while, right? Once it’s properly healed.”

“Probably.” MacCready stepped aside, holding his arm out for Nate to steady himself if he needed to. Nate took a breath, and attempted to take a step forwards. It didn’t quite work. He reached out for MacCready as he overbalanced, the prosthetic buckling beneath him. “Woah!” The merc did his best to hold Nate up as the older man regained his balance. “Maybe- Maybe lean on me, at least until you get the hang of it.”

“Mmm.” Nate was frowning. He put his arm around MacCready’s shoulders. This time when he tried, he moved the prosthetic leg first. He didn’t quite lift it enough, dragging it along the floor, and he leaned heavily on MacCready before feeling secure enough to put weight on it. It held, which was a good sign. MacCready could see how focused he was, and waited patiently as he steadied himself. In this way, he was able to take a few more steps, progressing slowly and having to take time to reorient himself after each. MacCready could see his building frustration each time he attempted to put less weight on the merc and was unable to do so, but he said nothing, simply allowing Nate to do what he needed to get used to the limb.

The doctor let them practice for a while before he insisted Nate rested. The redhead was clearly unhappy with being forced to stop, and Carrington had to remind him that it would likely be a long time, a few weeks at best, several months at worst before he could recover the same mobility he had before the incident. That soured Nate’s mood, and he was very quiet afterwards, the hope and cheer he’d displayed since Carrington said he’d only be under his care for another day fading fast. Eventually, he busied himself at a workbench, tinkering with this, that and the other.

 

The next day passed, and the next, and so on. They fell into a routine. Nate would spend as much of each day as possible attempting to get the limb to work the way he wanted it to. It was slow going, and with every fall he got a little more frustrated. He was irritable, not talking to MacCready as much as he normally did, and quick to snap at people. When he wasn’t practicing, he was working on something or another at the workbench. Tinker Tom had a lot of junk lying around, and he seemed okay with Nate taking something here and there to play with. After a while, it became clear that Nate was making himself a pair of makeshift crutches, which he used to get around HQ when he couldn’t be bothered to get someone to help him try to walk. Deacon lent him clothes, and he found that if he wore jeans over the prosthetic, it was difficult to tell his leg wasn’t real- at least until you saw his foot. He had tried to wear shoes over it as well, but he preferred not to, as he said it threw the weight off.

 

MacCready hated seeing him like that. A few times he considered going on a mission or something to pass the time- to get out of HQ. But he knew he couldn't. Even if Nate was irritable and sullen, he clung to MacCready's support in more ways than one. It was in the way he held MacCready at night when they curled up on the bunk they shared, and the way he gripped his sleeve whilst the younger man helped him with his exercises. MacCready could only hope that his presence helped Nate somehow. That he could alleviate some of the distress his situation had forced him to endure.  

 

Even with the crutches he'd made, it was two weeks before Nate could move well enough for them to even consider going back out into the Wasteland. MacCready had written a letter which he'd had delivered to Covenant explaining that Nate was recovering from an injury, and they would be staying with Desdemona in HQ until he was well enough, and had Deacon deliver it, so their friends wouldn't worry too much. But Nate was suffering from cabin fever, and with every passing day, MacCready could see his restlessness growing. So he had promised that as soon as Nate was ready, they would go home. Once he'd said that, it was impossible to convince the man to stay. He insisted he could cope, and had taken to practicing with a handgun in the range, proving that he could defend himself without his sword. MacCready was terrified of their inevitable trip home, knowing that a man who couldn't walk was as good as a dead man when anything more dangerous than a radroach looked in his direction, and if it wasn't for the cramped conditions in HQ, he would have insisted they stay longer. After all, an unhappy Nate was far preferable to a dead Nate. But being surrounded by other people all the time was taking its toll. Getting enough sleep was a trial, and the lack of privacy was infuriating at times. The bunk they shared was designed for one person, and barely fit two, but all other beds were taken. Sleeping during the day was impossible, with the permanent bustle of the agents around them. They needed space, and here, they weren't going to get it. So eventually, MacCready gave in. When he told Deacon they were going to head home the next day, the agent had insisted he go with them. MacCready had welcomed an extra gun, and though Nate was reluctant to admit he needed the help, he seemed to enjoy Deacon's company well enough, and quietly, MacCready believed he knew they would be safer with him joining them. Nate was still far from being able to walk unassisted, though with the crutches' help he had stopped dragging the prosthetic along the ground and started to walk with it. True to Tom's claims, he swore that it adjusted itself to better support him when he moved it, a feature which meant he was progressing faster than he would have with a traditional prosthetic.  

They took time to prepare, and MacCready bartered for medical supplies just in case; spare bandages, stimpaks and med-X. Nate had claimed the injury had stopped hurting, but MacCready had caught him taking painkillers from time to time. The following morning, they got up relatively early to allow for plenty of time to get back before dark, and packed all their supplies.  

"Feels good to be outside again." Nate took a deep breath as they emerged from the Church, looking up at the open sky. "I needed some fresh air."  

"You call this fresh?" MacCready wrinkled his nose at the omnipresent smell of decay and garbage, then grinned. Nate laughed, his first proper laugh since the surgery.  

"Alright. Fine. But you have to admit it's pretty stuffy in there."  

"I've been meaning to ask Tom to install A/C." Deacon commented. "So far though, no luck."  

"Let me know how that works out." Nate began to make his way down the street, his crutches clicking rhythmically against the stone street. MacCready and Deacon followed, hands on their weapons.  

Getting through the remains of the city was the most harrowing part. Several times, they had to change direction to avoid conflict after hearing voices and gunshots.  Once they were out in the open, there was less danger of running into a group of raiders or Gunners. It was slow going, with Deacon and MacCready having to stop and wait for Nate to catch up from time to time. They took breaks every hour or so, sharing food and water, before setting off once more. Already, Nate seemed happier. He was much more talkative, and the three of them engaged in conversation happily as they walked.

 

It was mid afternoon when Covenant came into sight. It had taken them a lot longer to travel there than it would normally, but MacCready was still happy that they had made it before it started to get dark. Deacon whistled as they approached.

“You don’t skimp on the security, huh?” He eyed the machine gun turrets scattered around the perimeter.

“Well, it’s a nice place.” Nate told him. “I’ve got quite the collection of valuable shit, and I don’t want anyone dodgy trying to take it from me. That being said, most of this was already here when I got here.”

“Valuable, you say?”

MacCready grinned at him. “You have no idea.”

 

“Guess who’s back!” Nate announced as they entered the town. They were greeted eagerly by Preston and, surprisingly, Hancock, who were tending to the crops.

“We got RJ’s note.” Preston told him. “Glad to see you’re up and about.” He looked over the man. “Leg wound, huh? No wonder you haven’t been back. I suppose this means you’re healing up alright though.”

Nate snorted. “You… could say that.” Preston raised an eyebrow at him. By means of an explanation, he handed his crutches to MacCready, using him as a post to lean on, and pulled up his jean leg.

“Holy shit.” They both stared, Hancock’s exclamation their only comment as Nate readjusted the material and took back his crutches. “Is that real?”

“Nope. I think that’s the point.” He grimaced. “I fucked this one up big time.”

“What happened?”

“Frag bomb. It got infected and, well, you know how to treat infection. The prosthesis was made by a friend. It seems to do the trick, but I’m still getting used to it.”

“No shit.”

“Hey Blue! Who’s your new friend?” Piper strolled over to join them, her eyes flitting over the two already present. “What got into them?”

“Oh, I just told them I only have one leg now.”

She stopped. “Wait, what?”

“Yeah, you heard me right.”

She gestured to the leg he was currently avoiding putting weight on. “That one’s-?”

“Fake? Yup.”

She blinked, then looked at MacCready. “Is he telling the truth?”

“Yeah, it’s been a rough few weeks.”

“…Can I see?” Nate rolled his eyes, but repeated the process, showing off the metal under the fabric of his jeans. “Fuck. Did it hurt?”

“Probably. I was pretty out of it though. Don’t remember much.”

“Probably for the best.” MacCready remembered how Nate had screamed, and had to suppress a shudder.

“Oh, and this is Deacon. Deacon, this is Piper.”

“Ahhh, if it isn’t my favourite reporter.” Deacon grinned. “How’s the paper?”

“Do I know you?” She gave him a look. “I feel like I know you.”

“Eh, might have run into me in Diamond City at some point. I’m a drifter, so you know… I drift.”

“How’d you meet Blue?”

“He saved my life. So there I was, pinned by a horde of angry super mutants, I’m talking at least, what? Eight? And I’m out of bullets, and then bam.” The Railroad agent mimed swinging a sword, “This guy rushes in and takes the head off the biggest one. Before I know it, I’m looking at a pile of green and red parts. Vicious, I tell you.”

Nate gave him a look, and rolled his eyes, but didn’t say anything. MacCready suppressed a snigger.

“Is that right?”

As they continued to talk, Nate headed off. He headed not to their room, MacCready noticed, but to the office. Presumably to talk to Nick. MacCready let him go, and went to find Cait instead. He checked all over Covenant, and eventually returned to the garden.

“Hey, Preston? Where’s Cait?”

“Oh, she’s at Castle. She volunteered to train the next lot of Minutemen to fight.” He smiled. “It’s good to see her helping out. I think she’s been wanting to do something like that for a while. You know, make up for the past.”

“Oh.” He couldn’t help it; he was disappointed. He’d missed her in the time they were away. “Do you know when she’s coming back?”

“Oh, we move back and forth all the time. I’d give it a couple days at most.”

“Alright. Well, thanks anyway.”

Robbed of anything else to do, MacCready unloaded their stuff and fell back onto their bed. He shrugged off his jacket and took off his hat and shoes, enjoying the softness of the pillows. Boy, he’d missed having somewhere comfortable to sleep. He reached for the half-read book he’d left in the drawer, and started to read. Eventually, Nate joined him.

“Hey.”

“How’s Nick?”

“As rusty as ever.” Nate smiled fondly. “Gave me lots of tips on how to keep metal limbs in working order.”

“Guess that’s something else you two have in common then.” MacCready chuckled. “Does everyone know now, then?”

“Yeah. Everyone except Cait. I take it Preston told you where she is?” MacCready nodded. “Good. They all seem to think I’m taking it really well.” He sighed, collapsing onto the bed. He leaned his crutches against the dresser and took off his shoes, hoisting the metal leg up onto the sheets as he made himself comfortable. Lying back, he closed his eyes and sighed. “Good to be back.”

“Are you?” MacCready asked. Nate gave him a half-lidded look.

“Hm?”

“Taking it well.”

Nate frowned. “I don’t know. How are you supposed to take it? I feel… compromised.” He huffed, rolling onto his side. “It’s strange. I can still feel it there sometimes. It still hurts.” His hand gripped the sheets, an unspoken display of frustration. “How can something that’s not there hurt?”

MacCready lay the book aside, and moved closer to Nate, pulling the band out of his hair so he could comb his fingers through it as Nate rested his head against his thigh. “I don’t know. You’ll get used to it.”

“I hope so.” He closed his eyes again, and MacCready couldn’t help the pang of pity in his chest as he looked down at him. He looked so worn out. Not just physically, though the circles under his eyes and the pallor of his skin suggested he was more tired than he let on. No, it was in his expression, and the way he held himself. He just seemed weary. It tugged at MacCready’s heartstrings to see the man he loved suffer so much, and it was made worse by the fact that he knew he was powerless to help. Then he heard the soft sigh, and Nate’s quiet voice, and his heart broke, just a little.

“I don’t want to be broken.”


	19. Coming to Terms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even the strongest people break from time to time. Nate's just glad that behind his boyfriend's childish, often shallow front, he's got the kind of emotional strength and understanding that lets him be just the kind of support that people- no, that HE needs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gonna be straight with you. This is basically 5000 words of these two being gay. Which, in my not-so-humble opinion, is definitely not a bad thing. Thanks again to the glorious allxthexwords for your advice- it is very much appreciated ^_^
> 
> Oh, and we're over 100,000 words now. Woah. Never thought I'd get this far with anything, really. Hey, I'm proud of myself.

The rest of the day passed, and when they fell into bed MacCready was out within minutes, grateful for some real peace and quiet.

He didn't know what time it was when he woke up, only that he was cold. He shifted, the sleep being driven from his brain as he realised one of his legs and his back were exposed, causing him to shiver. He mentally grumbled about Nate being a cover hogger, but when he pulled on the duvet to reclaim it, he didn't feel any resistance. Frowning, he opened his eyes, blinking away the bleariness of sleep. The bed next to him was empty.

"...Nate?" He asked a vacant room. He sat up. Nate's prosthetic was where he had left it, leaning on the dresser, but his crutches were gone. Mildly concerned, he got up, finding clothes to pull on. He realised a little too late the the shirt he'd reached for wasn't his, but he shrugged, doing up the buttons anyway and pushing the slightly too long sleeves up to his elbows.

Outside it was cold, so he pulled Nate's shirt tighter about himself and looked around. He didn't want to call out for fear of disturbing anyone. His boyfriend wasn't on the deck or by the campfire, but he could see soft light coming from the bar. Heading over, he knocked on the door before opening it. Nate was sat at the bar inside, hunched over a glass in the low lighting. He glanced up briefly at the sound of MacCready's entrance, but quickly went back to staring at the bar.

"Did I wake you up?" He asked in a quiet voice.

"Nah. I was cold." MacCready frowned, noticing the redness around his eyes. "Are you o-"

"Don't." Nate cut him off.

"What?"

"Don't ask that." He threw back what was left in his glass and refilled it from a nearby bottle of whiskey. MacCready stood in awkward silence for a moment, unsure of how to respond.

"Well... Can I join you?"

Nate inclined his glass in the vague direction of the seat next to him, which MacCready took as a yes. He took the invitation, sitting beside Nate and getting himself a drink, too.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not really. I know that if I try to start saying something about how shit I feel then-" He choked a little, pressing his hand to his mouth like he was ashamed. "Yeah. That." He sniffed, and looked away.

"You don't have to pretend to be okay." MacCready watched him, a heavy weight settling in his gut as he realised what he was witnessing. The collapse of a man who'd been holding himself together for too long. _Weeks._ He'd been repressing this for weeks. MacCready could only imagine how easy it had been for him to break the second he no longer had to hold the facade.

Nate dragged in a sharp breath. "I hate- I hate being like this around other people." His tone had an edge to it. Anger, but not directed at anyone but himself. He held himself for just a moment longer, his gaze fixed upon the glass in his hand. He seemed to be holding his breath. But he couldn't hold it forever. He let it out, and with it seemed to come everything he'd been holding back. Covering his face with a hand, he crumpled in on himself, and MacCready heard his short, uneven gasps of breath; saw the shaking in his shoulders. He sighed softly, and stood, laying a hand on Nate's back. When he didn't respond, the merc pulled gently, and eventually Nate took the hint. He hid his face in MacCready's shoulder, leaning into his partner's embrace and trembling as the younger man held him. MacCready sighed again, and allowed a small smile as he took Nate's hands, encouraging him to hug him properly. It broke his heart to see Nate like this- of course it did- but something about the redhead's inability to express his distress in front of MacCready was endearing. He felt Nate clutching at the back of his shirt, and he hugged the older man, running his fingers through his hair and easing out the tangles. Nate was quiet except for uneven little gasps, but as MacCready held him, he seemed to let go, sobbing into the merc's shoulder. MacCready pressed a kiss to his hair. He didn't know what to say, so he just let Nate do what he needed to do.

Eventually, Nate took one semi-steady breath, and then another, and another, slowly coming back to himself. He turned his head, resting on MacCready's collarbone, and sniffed, his hand coming up to pull gently on the collar of the shirt MacCready was wearing.

"Sorry for- for ruining your shirt." He murmured.

"Don't worry about it. It's your shirt, anyway." That earned him a half-choked laugh.

"Ex- Explains why it's too big for you." He paused, and frowned, his fingers clenching the fabric into his fist. "I hoped you wouldn't have to see this."

"That's stupid and you know it." MacCready couldn't help but tell him.

"It's..." He sniffed again, thinking. "Undignified."

That pulled an incredulous laugh from the merc. "Are you serious? We live together. Share a bedroom. Have done for a while now. You see things, doing that. Heck, you've seen me cry. And worse. We're _engaged,_ that means seeing each other being undignified all the time and not caring, doesn't it?"

"...I guess." He sat back, wiping the wetness from his face. "I can't be pretty right now, though." His expression shifted to something sour. "I'm not pretty any more. Haven't been for a while."

MacCready hit him. Just a light punch to the chest, but enough to display his displeasure. Nate looked vaguely affronted, but before he could retaliate, MacCready took his face into his hands, and looked him over. Every inch, from the redness around his eyes, to the deep gouges that crossed his cheeks, to the patch on his jaw where the ginger scruff that graced his chin didn't grow through properly.

"You're the prettiest man I've ever seen." He said simply. Nate blinked, and didn't quite meet his eyes.

"You're biased. And probably just trying to make me feel better anyway."

"You know what? You're right." He smiled softly, brushing his thumb along Nate's cheekbone. "I am biased. Because I love you. Isn't that what's supposed to matter? 'S what all the cheesy romance novels say, anyway."

Nate barked a laugh. "You read a lot of those?"

The merc shrugged. "I read what I could get my hands on. We couldn't exactly afford to be picky."

"I wouldn't have pegged you for a bookworm." The redhead placed his hand over MacCready's. "When I first met you, I mean."

"What, you think all dirty guns-for-hire drinking themselves blind in the backs of bars are illiterate?" He smirked a little. "Maybe I'm just special."

"You are special, RJ. God, you're..." He trailed off. "You're everything I love in a person. Everything I need."

"Nate?"

"Mm?" The man in question looked up at him, his eyes full of sombre devotion.

"You're such a freaking sap sometimes."

That pulled a smile from him. "Hey. I was trying to have a moment."

MacCready chuckled, and sat back down. "Get me a glass, will you? I figure since I'm up now I might as well make the most of it."

Nate obliged, pouring him a glass of whiskey. He took a sip, savouring the burn that spread in his chest. "So. You feeling better yet?"

The redhead tipped his glass in a gesture of nonchalance. "Not really. Can't really do much about it though."

"Mm." MacCready took another sip. "You are getting better though. Slowly."

"Slowly." Nate made a _tch_ sound. "I'm fucking helpless. How am I supposed to get into and out of the Institute alive, with my son, if I can't even walk unaided? He'll have to stay with them for, for _months_ more now."

MacCready frowned. "How long did you say he's been there?"

"Ten years. Ten _fucking_ years."

"I... I hate to say it, but... if he's been there that long, is a few more months going to make that much difference?"

Nate turned his glass over in his hand, frowning at it. "I don't know. I just want to see my boy again. I just want to know he's safe."

"I know. But don't go charging in unprepared, because you can't do anything for him dead."

He sighed. "I'm not suicidal."

"I know. But you have to admit, you can be a bit stupid sometimes."

"Thanks." He deadpanned. "After I go and compliment you and everything."

"Aw, you know I love you really." He leaned over and pressed a kiss to Nate's cheek. "I just worry about you, okay?"

"Yeah. Sorry."

MacCready fell quiet for a moment, taking another drink. Now that Nate seemed to have calmed down, he was starting to feel the tiredness creeping back into his brain. He found himself yawning.

"Am I keeping you up?" Nate asked.

"Wouldn't be the first time." MacCready smirked at him. "I don't mind."

The redhead knocked back the rest of his drink and put the cap back on the whiskey bottle. "Alright. Back to bed I think."

MacCready nodded in agreement and copied him, standing up. Nate had to take a moment to steady himself as he pushed himself up on his crutches, swaying a little. MacCready chuckled.

"How much have you had?"

"Shh. I'm handicapped okay?"

"Yeah, but you've gotten pretty good with those things lately."

Nate made a noise that sounded vaguely proud, and made his way to the door. The pair of them headed back to their room, MacCready turning the light off and pulling the door shut behind them. He hurried back inside, away from the chilly night air. Nate sat on his side of the bed, untying the knot he'd tied to keep the leg of his jeans from getting in the way and rubbing the flesh underneath, looking vaguely uncomfortable.

"Is it hurting again?"

"Little bit. Not much I can do about it though."

"Mm." He kicked off his shoes, and moved so he sat behind Nate. Slipping his arms around Nate's middle, he pressed a kiss to the side of his boyfriend's neck. The redhead leaned into his touch, tilting his head in an indication of encouragement. MacCready took the hint, trailing kisses along the line of his throat, from his jaw to his shoulder. Then he let go, tugging on Nate's shoulder. Nate lay back on the pillows, looking up at MacCready as the younger man climbed on top of him. He leaned down, and kissed Nate softly, feeling scruff on his cheeks from where Nate had neglected to shave. The redhead returned the kiss, the sweetness of the whiskey on his lips and tongue. MacCready's fingers found the hem of Nate's shirt, slipping beneath it and making the older man shiver. But when he pressed a leg between Nate's thighs, the redhead broke the kiss, frowning a little.

"Not now." He murmured. MacCready pushed himself up a little, looking down at his boyfriend. Nate didn't look uncomfortable, as such, but he didn't quite meet MacCready's eyes. MacCready nodded, moving so their bodies were no longer pressed against each other. Nate looked up at him then, like MacCready's acquiescence was unexpected.

"Alright. But can I have one more kiss?"

That made Nate smile, the fond little creases by his eyes returning. "Yeah. I think I can manage that."

MacCready took his time with this one, making it soft, combing his fingers through the hair at Nate's temple. When he pulled away, he brushed gentle kisses against Nate's cheek, then his jaw, and then got off him, unbuttoning his borrowed shirt. He heard Nate's softly contented sigh behind him, and then he also sat up to remove his clothes. When they climbed back under the sheets together, Nate cuddled up to him, resting his head on his fiancé's shoulder.

"Thank you." Nate murmured softly. MacCready traced his fingers idly over the older man's shoulder, looking down at him. "For this, I mean. Just... being what I need."

"I'm glad I can help."

"I appreciate it. I promise I do." He kissed MacCready's chest. "It's not easy, you know?"

"Mmm." MacCready rubbed circles into Nate's shoulder with his thumb. "I know."

Nate sighed softly, and settled down. "Night."

"Night." The merc kissed the top of his head, then rested his head on the pillow. He closed his eyes, and let the sound of Nate's soft breathing carry him to sleep.

 

The next day, they woke and readied themselves for the day. Deacon had stayed the night, and seemed to be getting on pretty well with the other inhabitants of Covenant, and Nate was eager to try to get back on his feet once more.

"Hey, RJ." He pulled MacCready aside, away from the others.

"What's up?"

"Can I ask a favour?"

"Sure."

Nate shifted his weight from his prosthetic to his other leg, adjusting his stance to something more comfortable. "The Paladin's been waiting for our response for more than a week now. Can you go... you know, tell him why we haven't come back yet? I don't think I can make the trip. Not easily, anyway."

"Uh, sure." MacCready thought about the Brotherhood company. "What should I tell them?"

"That I was injured, and it might be a while before I'm ready to begin duty, but that we're still interested. I don't want to blow the mission over this." The merc nodded. "Don't go without me." Nate grinned at him. "I don't want to miss the fun."

"Wouldn't dream of it." He stole a kiss and smiled back.

"Do you think you can make it there and back before nightfall?"

"Probably. It's not that far away, is it?"

"Nah. You can use my pipboy if you want. The tracking feature's really useful."

"Thanks." MacCready's eyes widened slightly. He knew how valuable a pipboy was. Something like that could prove invaluable. "You'll have to teach me how to work it."

"Ah, it's not that hard. Come on." He made for their house, MacCready following behind. He noticed that the redhead was putting considerably less weight on his crutches than he had been before. He still dragged his leg a little, but he seemed more comfortable with putting weight on it. It was encouraging, and MacCready wondered how long it would take for him to be able to walk without crutches at all.

"Here." He perched himself on the edge of the bed, picking up the device from his bedside drawers. He fiddled with it for a moment, then handed it over. "I've set a marker for Cambridge."

MacCready took it, strapping it to his wrist. Its display flickered for a moment, then lines of data appeared. He turned a dial, changing the page. It showed him his physical state, his location, even what was in his pockets.

"How does it do that?" He asked, marvelling at the sheer amount of information it showed him.

"Don't ask me. It's even got tabs on my skills."

"Woah."

"I know right." He grinned. "Look after it. I don't know if I'd be able to get another one."

"Yeah. Yeah of course." MacCready couldn't help but wonder how many caps he was wearing around his wrist. "Thanks. I guess I should go then."

"Look out for yourself." Nate kissed him, just a quick kiss but enough to make him smile. "I don't want to have to stay up waiting."

"I won't keep you." MacCready stood and recovered his rifle from where it was propped up against the wall.

"Good."

He shouldered the gun, and made sure he had emergency supplies, just in case. Nate got back to his feet to see him off.

 

MacCready left Nate at the gate, giving him one last kiss goodbye before setting off. It felt strange, travelling alone. He hadn't done it for a while. He found himself checking the pipboy every ten seconds, scanning for hostiles and making sure he was headed in the right direction. The added weight on his arm was strange, and took some time to get used to, but when it alerted him to nearby enemies before he ran into them, he was very grateful for it. A roving band of scavvers, the sort that will waste no time in stripping every valuable thing from your back and leaving you to die in the dust. He ducked behind a wrecked building and took them out one by one, a single shot to the head. The last one fell before they could figure out where the shots came from. He stripped caps and ammo off their bodies, and continued on his way.

 

Unlike the last time he was there, the Cambridge police station was quiet when he approached it. Still, the perimeters still had blockades decorated with the Brotherhood logo surrounding them, so MacCready figured they were still present. He wasn't sure exactly how to approach them, stopping for a moment outside the door, before deciding he might as well just go in. He was greeted by the sound of loaded laser rifles being pointed in his direction, and he put up his hands.

"Woah, woah. Just me."

"Wait." A voice he recognised as belonging to the scribe- Hayden, was it?- spoke up. "You're that civilian from the other day, aren't you?"

"Yeah. Is the Paladin here?"

"Of course." She called for Danse, lowering her rifle. The Paladin, still in his power armour, MacCready noted, emerged from the nearby door. His eyes widened a little as he saw MacCready, and he approached.

"You're back. I was beginning to think you'd rejected my offer after all." He paused, looking around. "Where's your friend?" His expression changed to a frown, then something more sombre. "Did he...?"

MacCready blinked, realising Danse's train of thought. "What? No, he's... Actually that's what I came to talk about. He sent me to tell you that we're still interested in signing up, but he suffered a pretty serious injury about a week ago and we don't know how long it'll take for him to be fit to fight again."

"Oh. I'm sorry to hear that. Give him my sympathies." He paused, "We have medics, if he's in need of medical care better than what can be provided for him out here."

"No, I don't think that'll help. He, um... he lost a leg. It's not so much the healing as the learning to walk again."

Shock was evident in Danse's expression at this. "I see. That's... certainly understandable. Well, it looks like we're due to be stationed here for the foreseeable future anyway, so take your time. I am to assume that you won't be joining us without him?"

"No, I need to stay with him."

Danse nodded. "Alright then. I have not yet alerted the Elder of your interest, so you are free to take whatever time is necessary. Be careful out there." He saluted, one metal fist against his chest. "Ad victoriam, soldier." It was a move MacCready knew all too well, having witnessed many soldiers do the same thing, and yes, on more than one occasion he had copied it, mocking them in front of his peers. It felt strange to do it again, except attempting to make it look genuine this time.

 

His duty done, MacCready left the police station behind, pulling out a box of dandy boy apples to snack on on the way back. The pipboy around his wrist clicked at him unhappily, reminding him that he was ingesting irradiated food, but he just rolled his eyes and ignored it.

The sky was turning orange, and he was getting bored, so he decided to turn the radio on as he walked. Travis was in the middle of a broadcast musing about the potential existence of the mysterious Railroad, something that MacCready couldn't help but smile at, being that technically, he was one of this enigmatic group that Travis was talking about as though it were a ghost story. The radio lapsed into a song, that sappy one that if he was going to be honest with himself, he didn't actually mind too much. He found himself picking up the pace as a cool breeze blew past him, a chill similar to the night previous already starting to set in. At some point in the walk, he ran into a lone red spot on the pipboy's compass, which turned out to be a radstag. MacCready didn't bother with it, being that it didn't seem particularly interested in him. Otherwise, the journey remained quiet, and he was home before the sun disappeared over the horizon.

"Where've you been?" Cait was lighting a fire in the pit as he came through the gates, and his entrance made her look up from her flint and steel. She set them down, brushing her hands off, and ran over. "I get home after a trip to find Vaultie's down a leg and you've buggered off somewhere without him! What gives?"

"Oh. I had to deliver a message for him. You know, since getting places is kind of hard for him at the moment."

"I can see that. And what about the new kid? 'E told me he met you two after you saved 'im from a raider encampment. Said they had him locked in a cage an' everything." She raised an eyebrow. "Is that true?"

"What did he say the odds were?" MacCready couldn't help a grin.

"Twenty to one."

"I'll take it."

She rolled her eyes at his self satisfied smirk. "So we're harbourin' a pathological liar now are we? An' I don't even get to know his real story?"

"Honestly I don't know much about him either but he seems friendly enough."

"Friendly is one thing. Not sure I trust 'im though."

_Probably a good idea,_ he thought to himself, _knowing his profession._ "Yeah, well, you know what Nate's like. And, well, if he tries anything, he's outnumbered."

"True. Alright, I'll give the fella a chance." She grinned. "At any rate, he seems like he'd be fun at parties."

MacCready laughed. "Yeah. Where's Nate?"

"Helpin' Nick figure out some o' the finer details of a case."

"In his office?"

"Yup."

"Okay. I'll go update him."

Cait nodded, and left him to it. He knocked on the door before entering the office. Nate was sat on Nick's desk, and they appeared to be presiding over a series of documents and pictures spread out in front of them. Both men looked up at his entrance. Nate smiled.

"Back so soon?"

"Ah, you missed me." MacCready went up to him, giving him a quick kiss.

"You know I did. Everything went smoothly?"

"Yeah."

"Where did you say you went again?" Nick chipped in, his yellow eyes meeting MacCready's.

"He didn't." Nate replied for him. "I promised someone down at Hangman's Alley I'd sort out a problem they were having. I had to send RJ to tell them that unfortunately that was no longer an option." He turned to MacCready. "Did he take it well? They're gonna stick around?"

"Yeah. He gives you his sympathies and says to take your time."

The redhead smiled. "Good. Here, take a look at this." He pointed at a file, covered in fine, relatively neat handwriting MacCready assumed was Nick's. "A girl's gone missing. Her dad's asked us to track her down..."

 

They spent the next few hours puzzling over the case, putting together leads and coming up with theories. It turned out that MacCready's keen eye translated well to spotting links and new clues, though Nick left them both in the dust when it came to figuring out the hows and whys. It was fun, in a way. And MacCready couldn't help but feel a little like his comic book heroes. Sure, maybe it wasn't as glamorous as one of the Shroud's fantastical cases, but it was still cool.

 

Later, when it was dark and they were once again behind closed doors, Nate lay on their bed on his stomach the way Carrington had told him to, and was fiddling with his pipboy, MacCready having returned it to him. The merc sat beside him, flicking through an old library book Nate had scavenged from somewhere or another. It was a fantasy novel, the story of a thief of some description. He found himself growing increasingly fond of the character the further he got through the book.

"Hey, RJ." Nate's voice tore him back to reality for a moment. He looked up.

"Hm?"

"It's the 17th of January."

"Yeah? And?"

"That means it's my birthday in six days. The question is do I celebrate my twenty-sixth or my two hundred and thirty-sixth?" He grinned.

"I dunno. That's a lot of candles to try and get on one cake." MacCready smirked back at him.

"When's your birthday?" He rolled onto his side. "I mean, I know you're twenty two, but I don't know when your birthday is."

MacCready frowned. "Oh, I'm probably twenty three by now."

Nate blinked. "Wait... You didn't tell me when it was your birthday?" Then he frowned. "What do you mean, 'probably'? How can you not know how old you are?"

MacCready shrugged. "Remember I told you I came from a town populated entirely by kids? Obviously none of us knew our parents. Or not very many of us did, anyway. Basically anybody dumb enough to have a kid they didn't want dumped them on our doorstep. I was one of those kids. So... yeah. I don't know my birthday. They found me some time in mid September though, so if I was gonna celebrate a particular day, it'd be some time around then."

"Huh..." The redhead studied him for a moment. "That kinda sucks. Does that mean you never had a birthday party?"

MacCready laughed. "Come on, Nate. We barely had enough to keep ourselves alive and safe. If we did do parties they would probably be the most pathetic parties in existence."

"First Christmas and now this?" Nate looked genuinely upset by this revelation. "I'm really gonna have to pull out the stops to make it up to you, aren't I?"

"Make it up to me? Nate, you say it like it's somehow your fault." He smiled softly. "I'm used to it."

"Still. It sucks." Nate moved closer, resting his head on MacCready's thigh. The merc looked down at him, and, not for the first time, he wondered what it would have been like for Nate growing up. Having parents, a comfortable home, learning geography and maths and science instead of how to shoot a rifle and where to cut to make a man bleed out. The textbook prewar life.

"One year, my parents took me to a theme park."

"A theme park?"

"Yeah. Not too far from here, actually. I went on all the biggest rollercoasters." He smiled fondly. "That was a good day."

MacCready tried to imagine that. He'd read about theme parks, seen pictures from time to time. They'd looked pretty dangerous to him. People in tiny little cars on rickety tracks, going stupidly fast with no brakes. He figured he was probably missing part of the picture.

"I bet theme parks aren't even a thing any more." He sighed. "Shame. I'd love to take you to one."

"Mmm." MacCready lay his book to one side, turning his full attention to the man with his head in his lap. Nate's eyes were closed, and his hair fell over his cheek, looking messy. MacCready pushed it back, tucking it behind Nate's ear so it fell over the back of his neck instead of his face. When he traced the line of Nate's spine with his fingernails, Nate shivered and hummed a laugh, his back arching a little. MacCready smiled. This, right here, this was what he wanted. This domestic, lazy affection. Suddenly, he was struck with a wave of longing to see his son again. He wanted to be a family, a proper one. To give Duncan what he never had. He'd taken the drawing and the photo, and taped them up on the wall beside his chest of drawers, and he found himself looking up at them, trying not to disturb Nate as he did so. Duncan had never really known his mother, as he'd only been about a year and a half old when she'd been taken from them. MacCready was the only real parent he'd known, and even then the merc had been away from home for far too long. He hated missing so much of his son's childhood, but he'd known it was necessary. He wouldn't have done it otherwise. He couldn't help but think that all this- Nate's injury, his rehabilitation and the resulting delay in his own, personal quest- meant he wouldn't get to see his own child for even longer.

_At least I know he's safe._ He thought. _And it'll all be worth it, in the end._ He had this image in his head, one he'd been cultivating for some time now. Himself and Nate, side by side with golden rings on their fingers, Duncan playing with his older brother, safe from the Institute and everything else the world could throw at them. A precious picture of something the wasteland rarely ever saw- a happy family. He looked down at the man he loved. He hoped Duncan would like him. Would accept him as his step father. He had no doubt the redhead would do everything to make the boy feel like one of his own, and if his plan succeeded, and he got Shaun back safe and sound, then Duncan would have a brother, too. He just hoped it would turn out that way. At any rate, he would put his all into making that thought a reality, and as he lazily traced the mess of patterns forever etched into Nate's back, he felt himself smiling at the idea that, one day, it just might come true.


	20. Shadow of Steel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time to begin phase two. Phase two point five? Who knows. At any rate, they're back in the game, and after taking way too much time off, Nate's not doing things by halves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentine's dayyyyyyy  
> No I didn't write anything special, because I didn't think of doing that this morning and chapter 20 was already due so... sorry XP I figure there's enough gay in this story already. Maybe. At any rate, enjoy.

MacCready would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy the following months away from their usual adventuring, just taking time to relax and recuperate. Disadvantaged as he was, Nate was forced to stay put as he recovered, resulting in long days of peace, passed with simple tasks and lazy affection. Having his tools on hand and piles of holotapes to go through meant Nate wasn’t going _too_ stir-crazy. He spent his days tinkering with the junk he collected, breaking it down into its component parts and using it to create new things; tools, weapons, decorations. He even started working on a terminal, sitting for hours at a time at his desk, fiddling with wires, metal and Wonderglue. MacCready spent a fair amount of time just watching him work, fascinated by what the other man could do. It surprised him, in all honesty. He wouldn’t have put Nate down as the sort to know how to do that kind of thing, but apparently his freaky knowledge of construction extended to tech as well. When he wasn’t working on his new project, he was on his feet. And he got better. He progressed from walking with both crutches to having just the one, and from there to walking with a stick he had in his collection of junk. It took a long time, and at times the frustration would get the best of him and MacCready would find him hiding somewhere solitary, more often than not with a glass in his hand, but he persisted. He kept going, and it was paying off.

 

It was three and a half months later when he took his first steps unaided. Significantly less time, MacCready knew, than it would have taken him without the intuitive internal matrix of the custom-built prosthetic. The look on his face when he made his way from one end of the room to the other without assistance was probably the happiest MacCready had ever seen him. From then on, his flagging confidence began to heal, and he worked harder than ever to return him to, if not quite his former glory, then enough for him to resume his quest. Notably, even after he was back on his feet and moving around, he tired quickly, and MacCready would often find him in their room with the prosthetic off, rubbing at sore muscles in what was left of his leg. In order to make up for this, he began training with guns so that he wouldn’t have to rely so heavily on melee style combat. MacCready helped him with this, teaching him how to handle a rifle. He knew Nate would never be a master shot, but he could aim well enough, and hey, it wasn’t like ammo was a limited resource the way he scavenged. Around them, people came and went. Deacon, though finding himself quite at home in their ever-growing little town, often flitted back and forth between Covenant and HQ. Piper and Nick also spent days at a time in Diamond City, and Preston and Cait were spending more and more time at the Castle. As for Hancock, well, more often than not it would be Fahrenheit coming to him for advice or what have you rather than him going back, but he did return from time to time. And so life went on.

 

“I think I’m ready.” Nate said one day as he approached MacCready, his trusty sword tucked into his belt and a determined expression on his face.

“Huh?”

“To resume the mission. I’m back on my feet, I can fight, I don’t have to hide away any more.”

“Are you sure?” MacCready looked him up and down. He had developed a habit of putting all his weight on his good leg, and he was stood like that now. Other than that, though, MacCready wouldn’t have been able to tell he had a prosthetic.

“I’m never gonna get better if I don’t go back out there. Not any more than I already have.” His hand closed around his blade’s hilt. “I’ve been sat around doing fuck all for too long. I was on my feet weeks ago.”

“Nate, you couldn’t have fought. Being out there is more than just walking around.”

“You don’t think I know that?” His voice had a sharp edge. “That’s why I put up with it. But I’m ready now, and we need to go. We need to get back in the game, RJ.”

MacCready took a breath, and glanced around Covenant. It was a quiet day today, most people out and about, doing their own thing. Was he ready to get back out there?

His mind went to Duncan, waiting for him all those miles away, and he sighed, nodding. “Alright. If you’re sure. What’s the game plan, boss?”

The way Nate’s eyes lit up almost made the worry worth it. “Okay, so we’ve got two options. Speak with Danse, or go to Spectacle and see if we can get the teleporter up and running.”

MacCready blanched at this. “No. I am not letting you run straight into the heart of the Institute. Not before I know you can handle yourself.”

“I can-” Nate made a frustrated noise in the back of his throat, then took a breath. “Alright. Yes, I see your logic. Brotherhood it is then.” He checked his pipboy, back around his wrist where it should be. “Can we go today? It’s doubtful we’ll be doing anything but enrolling on our first day, so I don’t think we need to prepare.”

“Yeah. Don’t see why not.” He couldn’t stop a little bit of exasperation slipping into his tone, but he knew that he didn’t really have a good reason not to. “Just give me some time to get my stuff together.”

Nate didn’t miss his tone, and his eyes narrowed slightly. “Don’t you want to get on with this?”

“I just don’t see why you’re so eager to run back into danger is all.” MacCready sighed.

“For Shaun.” The redhead’s tone was almost cold. “You know it’s for Shaun.”

“Yes, yes, of course I-” He huffed. “I know. I’m sorry.” He looked away. “I’ll go get my gun.”

He turned to walk away, but felt Nate’s hand on his shoulder.

“Hey.” He stopped, and faced Nate again, having to look up to meet his eyes. “Is something bothering you?”

MacCready held his gaze for a moment, considering him, then he shook his head. “Not for now. Come on, we’ve got sh- We’ve got stuff to do.” He didn’t miss Nate’s concerned look as he strode off, but he didn’t say anything more.

 

It didn’t take them long to be ready to go. It turned out that Nate had kept everything they would need to get back on the road separate for a while now, pretty much good to go at any time. Alongside their usual stash of healing supplies, water and food, he also kept hold of a walking stick, just in case his leg gave him trouble along the journey. In addition to this, he took a syringeful of med-X to chase off the phantom pains that still bothered him, especially after exercise. MacCready was mildly concerned by the frequency with which Nate took the painkillers, knowing that they did have addictive properties (though nowhere near the potency of the harder drugs), but he appreciated the precautions Nate was taking to keep himself as high-functioning and therefore as safe as possible. Then they gave Dogmeat one last pat, assured Codsworth they would be fine one last time, and left. MacCready caught sight of Cass sitting atop the wall, watching them as they left. He smiled, and saluted her as she posed like some sort of skinny, fluffy gargoyle.

 

They travelled in silence for the first leg of the journey. MacCready could tell Nate knew the merc was watching him closely, making sure he was alright, but he didn’t say anything about it. That was, until they were a fair distance away.

“Is there something you want to say to me, RJ?” He asked, seemingly out of the blue. MacCready was snapped out of his train of thought, and he blinked.

“What?”

“I asked if there’s something you have to say. Because every time I’ve brought up coming back out here you’ve seemed to shut me down. And don’t give me that bullshit about worrying about me because we both know I can handle myself.”

“To be fair, I think I have a pretty good reason to worry about you at the moment-”

“RJ.” Nate gave him a look.

“Alright, fine. Can I ask something?”

The redhead frowned, but nodded.

“Do you think we’re ever gonna… you know. Settle down?”

“That’s a thing people do out here?”

“Sometimes. If you’re lucky enough to have a safe place with enough resources to call home.” He stared off at the path ahead of them. “It’s just… Nate, we’re gonna be parents. We _are_ parents. And when we bring our kids home safe, I kind of had it in my head that we were gonna raise them properly. Too many kids in the Wasteland either don’t have parents or don’t have a home or either. I want our kids to be some of the few that do have that. But I see you at home and after a few days you get restless, like you’re never gonna be happy staying in one place, and it makes me think that you wouldn’t want that. That- that being a family won’t make you happy. But I _do_ want to be a family, Nate. I want to be your husband and I want to be a father and I want to do a good job at both of those things.” He found himself looking at his feet, feeling a blush creeping across the bridge of his nose. “I just don’t want to… to tie you down by doing it.”

There was a moment of silence, and for one horrible second MacCready thought Nate was gonna tell him that _No. I can’t do that._ But then he felt Nate’s hand against his, and the older man laced their fingers together.

“Okay. So it’s true that I like being out here and making a difference. But I know what having kids means, and you know that by agreeing to have Shaun in the first place means that I was willing to do all that family crap already, right?”

“Prewar, maybe, but you’ve said it yourself, everything’s so different now.”

“RJ, when we get them back- both of them- I’m going to give them the best childhood I can to make up for it, okay? And that involves teaching them to play ball, taking them out for their first beers, having them wake us up at ungodly hours of the morning on Christmas, grossing them out with parental affections, everything that dads do.” MacCready couldn’t help but laugh a little at the image that created. “Sure, shit’s different now. A _lot_ different. But that doesn’t mean any kid of mine doesn’t deserve the best I can give them. Marrying you and making sure Shaun and Duncan grow up to be the best young men we can bring them up to be is plenty adventure enough. At least until they’re old enough to take care of themselves.” He smirked a little. “Parenthood isn’t retirement. Just a break.” He squeezed MacCready’s hand lightly. “So if that’s what you’re worrying about, quit it. Okay?”

MacCready felt something warm in his chest, a rush of affection for the man, and he felt himself smile somewhat involuntarily. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s… That’s good.”

 

When they reached Cambridge Police Station, MacCready noticed that it was much more heavily fortified than it had been last time he was there. Clearly in the time that they’d been gone, Danse and his team had found the materials to build better defences for their outpost. The turrets turned towards them as they approached, but didn't fire. MacCready never had understood how those things could be programmed to differentiate between friend and foe.

They approached the door and, much like the last time he was here, MacCready pushed it open without much fanfare.

“Who the fu- Oh. It’s you two.” They were greeted by the scathing tone and sharp sneer of Knight Rhys as they entered. “Didn’t Danse offer you a position months ago? Doesn’t seem like he made much of a good call if you’re shirking duty already.”

“Stand down, Rhys.” Haylen, ever the friendlier one of the pair, smiled at them. “Good to see you back on your feet, soldier. I heard you had quite the accident.”

“You could say that.” Nate grimaced. “I came as soon as I deemed myself fit to fight. His eyes dated around the room briefly, and he gestured at a nearby chair. “Do you mind if I-?”

“Oh, of course not! Please.” Haylen motioned for him to take the seat, which he did, straightening out the prosthetic as he let out a breath, clearly grateful to take the weight off.

“Where’s Danse?” MacCready asked, going to stand beside Nate.

“The _Paladin_ -” Rhys emphasised his use of Danse’s title, “-is out on patrol at the moment. He’s due to return in a half hour or so.”

“So are you guys stationed here permanently then?” Nate asked.

“Pretty much. We discovered this place by accident but it turns out it’s actually a perfect spot. This area of the Commonwealth had been left somewhat wild before, so we needed a station here.” Haylen told him. MacCready though he saw something flicker in Nate’s expression, but he just nodded.

“You got a lot of stations out here?”

“A few. Mostly we just send out patrols in vertibirds, though. Unfortunately our attempts of forming more permanent settlements have been met with some resistance by the- ah- locals.” She grimaced. “Honestly, you’d think they’d recognise a better way of life when they saw it.”

MacCready didn’t say anything, but internally he all but rolled his eyes out of his head. _Better way of life, huh_? He’d seen what their so-called ‘better way of life’ was like. It involved far too many rules and regulations- oh, and the systematic massacre of anyone considered ‘sub-human’. So yeah… no.

 

They passed the time chatting with the two soldiers- well, chatting with Haylen, and receiving the occasional cutting remark from Rhys- as they waited for Danse to return. When he did show up, he was encased head to toe in metal, including the heavy-looking helmet. _Does he ever take that thing off_? MacCready found himself thinking about the suit. When the mask turned in their direction, he raised bulky metallic arms and removed it. Underneath, his forehead shined with sweat, dark hair sticking to it.

“You’re back.” He commented, eyes flicking between them “Both of you.” MacCready didn’t miss the way Danse’s eyes went straight to Nate’s lower half- checking to see if the story was true- and he was sure Nate didn’t either from the way he self-consciously shifted, crossing his good leg over the prosthetic one.

“Yup. Sorry for the delay.” Nate flashed the grin he always used when trying to curry favour with people.

“No, I’m just glad to see you here. When your friend showed up alone I thought the worst.”

“I like to think I’m pretty hard to kill.” He quipped, and MacCready caught the sly look in his direction. He fought the urge to slap his partner on the shoulder.

“That’s good to hear, soldier. You’re the sort we strive to cultivate within our ranks. If I may ask, are you fit for active duty?”

“Yes. And I don’t expect any special treatment. I want to be as much use as I can.”

Danse seemed to like that, for he gave Nate a proud smile. “Of course, soldier. The Elder will be delighted to hear that. Speaking of which, in order to officially enrol the pair of you, I will need to bring you before the Elder. Preferably sooner rather than later. Is that alright with you?”

“Yeah, we were kind of expecting that.” MacCready told him after exchanging a look with Nate.

_I guess this is officially it, then. We’re actually doing this._ MacCready couldn’t help but wonder what his old friends would think of him now, on the other end of those trademark laser weapons. _It’s for a good cause I swear_ he mentally told them. He would never actually support them. Never.

 

“Wait, we’re riding in one of _those things_?” MacCready stared at the vertibird in horror. God, how many of those had he seen crashing and burning? He’d scavenged from the burnt-out husks of the craft many, many times, and he had next to _zero_ faith in them.

“Is that a problem, soldier?” Danse called to him as he climbed on board and began fiddling with the instruments. Beside him, Nate chuckled.

“You can always hold my hand if you’re scared.”

“Wait.” He turned to Nate, pointing an accusatory finger. “Aren’t you supposed to be scared of heights?”

“Yup. Absolutely terrified.” The redhead leaned on his leg, smirking. “I try not to let it stop me from doing things.”

MacCready shook his head. “You’re crazy. Haven’t you seen how easily these things go down?”

“I’ve ridden one of these many times, and I’ve never experienced any issues.” Danse stood on it, looking down at them as he hung onto an overhead bar. “It’s true, they have some weaknesses in combat, but we will not be engaging in combat, so there shouldn’t be any problems.” 

“Uh huh.” MacCready looked over it, trying to spot any flaws.

“Come on.” Nate rested a hand on his shoulder, then hauled himself onto the craft alongside Danse. “Let’s get this over with.”

MacCready huffed, said a quick prayer and followed them, hoping Danse’s optimism was well founded, and not just luck.

“Either of you want to take the minigun?” MacCready sat himself firmly in the seat next to Nate’s, as far from the outside of the craft as he could, and shook his head.

“No?” Danse let out a short laugh. “I’m sure you’ll get used to it. Both of you.”

MacCready nodded, but took Nate’s offer, slipping his hand into the older man’s. It did little to assuage his fears, though he appreciated the contact. Danse seemed slightly taken aback by the gesture, his eyes flicking between the pair of them. Before he could comment, though, the pilot called back asking if they were ready. Danse took his position behind the mounted gun and shouted his assent back. When the craft lifted off from the landing pad, MacCready felt Nate’s grip on his hand tighten. He glanced at the redhead, and was met with a slightly forced smile. He smiled back, and tried not to think of that one time when one of his comrades in the Gunners had taken a shot at one of these things, only to whoop and laugh as it went up in an impressive fireball.

 

For what it was worth, the flight was short, and MacCready could distract himself by listening to Danse talk about… something or another, he wasn’t quite sure what. Beside him, Nate sat staring fixatedly at one point. It would have worried him if not for the soft stroking of Nate’s thumb along the side of his hand, reminding him that he was aware of his surroundings. His entire body stiffened when the craft shook as it attached itself to the giant blimp that was apparently the Brotherhood’s base of operations in the Commonwealth, but he seemed to relax once it stilled.

“Welcome aboard the Prydwen.” Danse announced proudly as they dismounted. “Isn’t she a sight to behold?”

MacCready looked around. Along either side of the walkway were several ports for more vertibirds. At one end seemed to be some sort of control centre, and at the other a set of stairs leading to what must be the interior of the floating fortress. And above them… Above them was the huge, dark mass that made up the bulk of the airship. It was fairly intimidating.

Waiting for them on the deck was a man dressed in a smart uniform unlike any MacCready had seen on the soldiers on the ground. Danse addressed the man respectfully, saluting him, and they exchanged a few words. Then the man turned to the pair of them, giving them a once over.

“New recruits, are they?”

“Yes, sir. They both showed great promise assisting me with a mission, and I’d like to personally sponsor their entrance into our ranks.”

“I see. I’m sure the Elder will have faith in your predilections. As it stands, you will be their mentor until the time comes that they attain their own ranks.”

“Of course. Are they to join us at Cambridge?”

“I believe the Elder has other instructions for you. Replacement troops will be sent, but for the time being you are to remain here and await further instruction.”

“Very good. Ad victoriam, Captain.”

“Ad victoriam, Paladin.” The Captain saluted him. He gave MacCready and Nate one last smile and nod of confidence, and then turned to leave. Without their escort, MacCready suddenly felt that they might be left floundering, but almost immediately, the Captain turned his attention to them.

“So. Paladin Danse has taken a liking to you, it seems.” He gave them a critical eye, lingering on Nate’s scars and the string of bullets around MacCready’s leg. “You don’t look much like soldiers to me. If anything, I’d say you look like mercenaries. Or worse.”

Then MacCready saw Nate do something he’d never seen before. The man snapped to attention, standing straight and delivering a perfect salute. “My name is Private Nathaniel Delaney, sir. I served with the US military during their campaign in China. I would be proud to be accepted into your ranks.”

The Captain looked at him as if he were crazy. “In China? You talk like you served in the Great War.”

“I did, sir. Around a year, fourteen months ago I came out of Vault 111. Cryostasis, sir.”

The Captain’s eyes widened at that, shock evident on his face. “I see. That’s remarkable. Is the Paladin aware of this?”

“Not yet, sir. It never came up. It’s not a story most believe readily.”

The Captain nodded. “Understandable. Our medic will certainly want to see you. I should imagine you’re healthier than the rest of us put together.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And your friend?” The Captain turned his gaze to MacCready, who attempted to copy Nate’s stance, pressing his fist to his chest in salute.

“Robert MacCready. Capital Wasteland. I, uh, worked as a mercenary for some time, until I teamed up with Nate.”

“Hm. I was right.” His expression was mildly distasteful. “What made you want to join?”

“I only took up the merc job because I had no better way to live. The Brotherhood can offer me a mor- uh, a better life. At least I hope so. Sir.” He added as an afterthought.

The Captain surveyed them a moment longer, then seemed to ease off. “Well, you seem an interesting pair. I will be interested to hear what the Elder thinks of you. Dismissed.” He saluted once more, and turned to walk to the control room. MacCready relaxed instantly, but Nate remained rigid a second longer before doing the same.

“You need to work on your formal address.” Nate reprimanded him. “You know, you could easily get in trouble for insolence.”

MacCready snorted disdainfully. “They deserve it. And what was that? You looked like you had a stick up your butt.”

“It’s called standing to attention, dumbass.” Nate smirked at him. “And yeah. That was the vibe I was going for.” That pulled a laugh from MacCready.

“So what now?”

“I guess we talk to the Elder.”

MacCready nodded, and with that they headed into the belly of the beast.

 

They were met by the back of what appeared to be a small crowd on the command deck of the airship, and they could hear a strong voice coming from the front of the group. Taking their place amongst the gathering, they watched the Elder give his speech. Fortunately, no one seemed to react to their joining late.

“-Brothers and sisters, the road behind has been long and fraught with difficulty. Each and every one of you has surpassed my expectations by rapidly facilitating our arrival in the Commonwealth. You have accomplished this amazing feat without a hint of purpose or direction, and, most impressively, without question.” At this, MacCready exchanged a look with Nate. _These people don’t know what they’re doing?_ He didn’t like the idea of that. “Now that the ship is in position, it is time to reveal our purpose and our mission. Beneath the Commonwealth, there is a cancer known as the Institute.” MacCready heard a sharp intake of breath from the man beside him. “A malignant growth that needs to be cut before it infects the surface.” The Elder took a breath, his eyes moving from one member to the next, demanding their utmost attention. “They are experimenting with dangerous technologies that could prove to be the world’s undoing for the second time in recent history. The Institute scientists have created a weapon that transcends the destructive nature of the atom bomb.” Something twisted in MacCready’s gut. Was that true? “They call their creation the ‘synth’,” Beside him, Nate shifted, a movement barely there but one that told MacCready all about Nate’s stance on that comment. “A robotic abomination of technology that is free-thinking and masquerades as a human being.” Mutters went through the crowd at this, but a raised hand from the Elder stilled them. “This- _notion-_ that a machine could be granted free will is not only offensive, but horribly dangerous. And like the atom, if it isn’t harnessed properly, it has the potential of rendering us extinct as a species.” The Elder stood tall, holding his head high. “I am not prepared to allow the Institute to continue this line of experimentation. Therefore, the Institute and their synths must be dealt with swiftly and without mercy. This campaign will be costly, and many lives will be lost. But in the end, we will be saving humankind from its worst enemy. Itself.” He inclined his head, as though in a gesture of respect. “Ad victoriam.”

“ _Ad victoriam_.” Came the chorus of responses. Taking this as a dismissal, the crowd dispersed, leaving just the pair of them behind. MacCready glanced at Nate. The older man’s expression was guarded, his grip on the hilt of his sword where it was tucked into his belt tight. The Elder didn’t show surprise at their presence, but he motioned ever so slightly for them to move forward. He turned to face the glass panes separating them from the world below them, and gestured out across the land. “I care about them, you know. The people of the Commonwealth.”

“I don’t think we can doubt that, at least in terms of some.” He heard Nate say in a clipped tone. The Elder gave him a sidelong look.

“You have reservations. That is… understandable.” The Elder sighed. “If there is one thing I have learned about the world, it is that weak, half-assed attempts at fighting back are worse than useless. The only way to make any progress is to throw everything we can into eradicating that which infects us.” He turned to them. “Unfortunately, that means success demands sacrifice. But for peace, I am willing to make it.”

_Willing to sacrifice other people. How noble._ MacCready could see Nate’s discomfort. The redhead straightened up to his full height, an inch or so taller than the Elder, and took a breath.

“I am here because we have a common enemy. I want to make it clear, I will not attack _anyone_ unaffiliated with the Institute, not without good reason.” _Nate._ MacCready tried to wordlessly communicate with him. _Don’t blow this for us. Just go with it for now._

Fortunately, the Elder did not seem to take offence, and instead inclined his head in a gesture of understanding. “And that is all I can ask. I hear that Paladin Danse has recommended the pair of you for duty. You should be honoured. He is one of my most valuable and trusted soldiers. You must have impressed him greatly.”

“Thank you, sir.” Nate still hadn’t relaxed, but he seemed to be holding on to his decorum, at least for the time being.

“He tells me you have combat skills, and are confident in the field. Therefore, I see fit to grant the pair of you the rank of Knight. Our Knights are our strongest force in the field. You will be required to protect and assist our scribes, and will be the first line of attack in any offensive mission I should require of you. Will you accept the position?” Both of them nodded. “Good. Then I suggest you begin duty immediately. Proctor Quinlan will want your basic details for our records, Knight-Captain Cade will require a medical examination and Proctor Ingram will want to know your measurements so we can outfit you with proper gear befitting your rank. Yes, you will each be ascribed a full suit of power armour. Wear it with pride. You may want to familiarise yourself with some of our other staff as well. When you are satisfied, you may speak to Lance-Captain Kells for your first assignment.” He nodded one last time, and saluted. “Dismissed.”

The pair of them copied the salute, Nate more than a little stiffly, and they left the command deck.

“What was that?” MacCready asked Nate.

“What was what?” The redhead’s tone was sharp.

“After you gave me that big speech about proper address and behaviour, you go and practically tell the guy to fuck off! I mean-” MacCready huffed, berating himself for the slip, “You know what I mean.”

“You’re exaggerating. And you heard what he said. RJ, my best friend is a synth. I’m not going to let him act like having a few gears makes you less deserving of _basic decency_.”

“You knew they were gonna be like this.”

“I didn’t know they would be that in your face about it.” He made a disgusted noise. “He doesn’t deserve my respect.”

“It’s not about deserving, is it?” MacCready glanced around them, making sure they were alone. “It’s about getting close so we can sell them out. I’m sure you’ll get your chance to punch the guy in the face eventually, but for now we’re here to _pretend we’re one of them_.”

Nate held the tension a moment longer, then sighed. “No. You’re right. Alright. Let’s hope the rest of the crew is more agreeable, yeah?”

MacCready nodded, and they headed towards voices, through metal corridors.

_Let’s hope this doesn’t backfire._ He thought to himself. _We’re really in it now._


	21. Initiation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The crew of the Prydwen is an eclectic bunch. Perhaps some of them will prove to be more palatable than its Elder... Well, we'll see.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, I'm only slightly late, it's fine XP   
> Not sure how I feel about this. It could probably be considered filler, but I wanted to get this out and the next part really deserves its own chapter, so... I shall get on with that ^_^
> 
> Oh, and I'm utterly obsessed with Yuri on Ice right now. Might write a little something for that. Who knows.

The Brotherhood’s higher ups were… interesting, to say the least. MacCready found he didn’t hate them half as much as he thought he would. He might have even gone so far as to say he could get along with some of them. Certainly, none of them quite brushed the pair of them up the wrong way like Maxson did.

They started with a man named Quinlan. The Proctor, as his title was given, was apparently the resident keeper of the archives, so to speak. He kept hold of all the important documentation, sorted databases, and collected any and all information.

“So. New blood?” His eyes were sharp behind his glasses, and he spoke with a smooth English accent. MacCready wondered how he’d picked that up. There was a soft mewing sound from near the merc’s ankles, and he looked down to see a tiny grey cat rubbing up against his leg affectionately. He smiled, and bent down to pet her as Nate addressed the Proctor.

“Yes, sir. I was told we were to speak to you?”

“Indeed.” He surveyed MacCready with a look that wasn’t quite disapproving, but that still managed to seem disdainful. “I have some basic paperwork for the pair of you to fill out. You are literate, aren’t you?”

“What? Of course we are!” Nate sounded offended. MacCready just rolled his eyes and continued to scratch the cat behind the ears.

“My apologies. I find you never can tell with- ah- _civilians_.” He pulled open a drawer and handed Nate a blank form and a pen. “You too.” He addressed MacCready. “I’m sure you’ll have plenty of time to get acquainted with Persephone at a later date. She likes to wander.”

MacCready looked up at the Proctor. “You named her Persephone?” He smiled. “That’s cool. I have a cat called Cassiopeia. Well, I guess she’s not really mine, but she seems to like me, and I give her food, so…” He trailed off, shrugging. Quinlan’s eyes widened.

“You are aware of the Greek mythos? Remarkable.”

“Yeah. I always liked the ancient Greek stuff. I had this really heavy book with a bunch of myths in it.” He chuckled. “I don’t know how many times I read that thing cover to cover.”

“I wasn’t aware such literature was available in the Commonwealth. Or that anyone had any interest in it.”

“Technically it would have been the Capital Wasteland it was available in. And… Yeah, it wasn’t common. But hey, we got bored, and some of those books you find in old buildings are still in decent condition.”

“Fascinating. Not enough people these days are as well-read as they should be.”

MacCready reluctantly gave Persephone one last stroke and stood, taking the form from the Proctor. “Well hey, maybe we should talk some time. I’m kinda short on reading material at the moment.” He grinned, enjoying the look of incredulity on the Proctor’s face. No one ever expected the dirty merc to be cultured. Nate shook his head at him just a little when they made eye contact, grinning, then returned to filling in the form. MacCready did the same. It was basic stuff- name, date of birth, place of origin, medical history. He found himself glancing over at Nate’s form more than once, reading through all the impossible-sounding stuff he’d written down. He learned this way that Nate had had his appendix out when he was eleven, and that he had been to China during his time in the military. He winked at his partner as he handed the filled in form and pen back, and MacCready watched Quinlan’s expression as he read Nate’s relatively neat handwriting.

“Knight, you do realise I need this for official documentation, correct?” The Proctor raised his eyebrow.

“Yes. Is there a problem, Proctor?” Nate asked, the picture of innocence.  

“2052? Really?” Nate nodded. “You cannot expect me to believe this.”

“Blame Vault-Tec.” The redhead grinned. “I hear cryotechnology was big back in the seventies. Uh…” He backtracked. “The twenty-seventies.”

“You were sealed in a vault? In cryostasis?” Quinlan glanced over him, disbelief and fascination in his expression.

“What, you haven’t heard of me? I think I’ve picked up a bit of a reputation as ‘the man frozen in time’.” MacCready snorted, and Quinlan gave him an unamused look, before returning his attention to the form.

“This is… You are certainly the first in our ranks to have been through such an experience. I shall be interested to see what your medical examination results come back looking like.”

“Me too, in all honesty. If my outsides are anything to go by, my insides won’t be as pretty as they used to be.”

Quinlan’s eyes swept over him, resting on the scars that decorated his face. “Indeed.” He accepted MacCready’s form as well, doing a quick scan over it, but seemed to find nothing of note. “Well. I have work to be getting on with, so unless you wish to assist me with said work, I suggest you move on. I assume Knight-Captain Cade will want to get his hands on you next.” With that, he turned away, and filed the paperwork away. MacCready looked over at Nate, who motioned for them to leave. As they walked away, MacCready caught sight of Persephone jumping up onto Quinlan’s desk and curling up. He smiled a little, and wondered if the eloquent Proctor would be as prickly on his off time, or if he would actually get the chance to talk to him about his old books.

 

They walked through the canteen on their way to the medical office, and MacCready caught sight of Danse, who seemed to watch them as they went past, a pensive expression on his face. When he noticed MacCready looking at him though, he smiled and nodded a greeting. MacCready smiled back, then caught up with Nate.

The medical area was little more than an office off the side of the hall, much like Quinlan’s. A man sat behind a desk there, and looked up at their approach.

“Ah. So you’re the new knights. Here for the medical, I presume?”

“Yeah, sure.” MacCready glanced around at the various equipment lying around. “So what are you gonna have us do?”

“Oh, no need to worry. It’s mostly a verbal exam. Depending on your answers I might require a blood sample, or something like that.”

“Okay.”

“Right. Shall we get right to it?” He tapped away at a terminal for a bit, then glanced up. “Name?”

“Uh… Robert Joseph MacCready.”

“Right. And you?”

“Nathaniel Elliot Delaney.”

“And were you exposed to radiation as a child?”

“Nope. I’m prewar. Came from Vault 111.”

Cade looked up. “Prewar?” MacCready rolled his eyes. _Here we go again_.

“Yup.”

“Do you mind if I run some tests? Just basic information… We’ve never had a case like yours before.”

“Eh, sure, I guess.”

“Excellent.” He typed something into the terminal again. “I suppose that means you’ve had prewar medical treatment. Immunisations and the like.”

“Yeah. Not sure how many of them will still be valid though.”

“Anything is good. Basically I just want to make sure no infectious diseases will make their way on board. Have you suffered any sickness since leaving your vault?”

“Uh… I got a stomach bug after a few days out. I think it was because I ate something bad. Does an infection count?”

“An infected wound?” Cade looked up from the screen. “Technically no, but it will still be useful for our records.”

“Then I suffered a nasty case of gangrene in my leg a few months ago.”

“I assume you fought it off, then?”

“Not exactly. I have a prosthetic.”

“I see. You may want to speak to Proctor Ingram. She can assist you should you need it repaired or adjusted.” Nate nodded, and Cade turned his attention to MacCready. “And yourself? Any extended radiation exposure?”

“I don’t think so. Nothing worse than the usual.”

“Good. I’m going to assume you have a normal immune response for the average Wastelander.”

“Pretty much. I got the flu once, and I’ve had my fair share of colds and stuff.”

“Mm.” Cade wrote this down. “Right. Next up: Have you ever had or come into contact with anyone carrying a communicable disease?”

“Nah. Nothing serious.”

“And yourself?” He asked Nate.

“Nope.”

“Good. That’s good. Finally, and please be honest, this is for medical reasons, nothing more…” He glanced between them. “Have either of you had sexual relations with any being considered inhuman?”

Nate’s eyes widened at that question, but MacCready shrugged it off. Staying in Goodneighbour, he knew relationships between humans and ghouls weren’t as uncommon as you might think. That, and with the latest synth epidemic…

“No, I haven’t- do you get that a lot?”

Cade raised an eyebrow. “You’d be surprised. Personally I find the idea… distasteful, but…” He grimaced. Nate glanced at MacCready, who hadn’t responded, as he was thinking through many evenings spent drunk in bars after having lost Lucy, and the various bad decisions he made during that time.

“Wait… RJ, have you…?” He sounded incredulous, but not necessarily disgusted, which MacCready was grateful for.

“I… Maybe? I mean, with the synths, you can’t tell just by looking, and… well, Goodneighbour gets a lot of traffic.” He felt a flush on his cheeks, and cleared his throat a little awkwardly. That was a bad time in his life, and he didn’t really want to discuss it.

“In that case, I’ll want some tests from you too. Just to make sure.” MacCready nodded, and was grateful when Cade moved on. “Finally, would you have nay problems pulling the trigger on an enemy of the Brotherhood, be they human, formerly human or otherwise?”

Both of them shifted at that, and MacCready wondered if he should be honest, or outright lie. Nate seemed to be thinking the same.

“That’s not really a medical question, is it?” He asked, and MacCready noticed his fingers curled into a fist on his thigh. Cade gave him a look.

“It’s my job to assess the mental wellbeing of our members, as well as the physical.”

“Well then… I won’t discriminate. If someone deserves it, they deserve it.”

Cade seemed to note his careful wording, pausing a moment, before replying, “I see.” MacCready got the feeling he might note down to watch the redhead’s actions, but he didn’t ask any follow up questions. Instead, he indicated for MacCready to answer. For a moment, the merc was lost for words, unsure of the correct response. He decided to go with his gut.

“I worked as a merc. If someone tells me to shoot, I shoot. Can’t really afford to be picky.” He bit his lip, adding, “To a point.”

Cade gave a short nod, and wrote that down. “Alright. That’s it for the questions.” He told them, and stood. “If you’re alright to do it now, I’d like to take some blood samples from the pair of you.” They acquiesced, and Cade proceeded to do as such. The pair of them had had enough experience with stimpaks and the like, so neither were bothered by the needles, and it was over with quickly. Afterwards, MacCready prepared to leave, but Nate stopped him.

“One more thing.” He turned to Cade. “Do you have any med-X going spare?” MacCready frowned a little. He’d been taking the stuff since he’d had his leg amputated, claiming phantom pains. MacCready wasn’t sure how long that was supposed to happen for. Surely it couldn’t be for the rest of his life.

“Not going spare, no, but if you have the caps to reimburse me I can sell you some.”

Nate smiled. “Thanks.” They exchanged goods, and Nate stopped in the corridor to inject the painkiller into his arm. He noticed the look MacCready was giving him as he rolled his sleeve back down. “What?”

“Didn’t you already take some this morning?”

“It’s worn off.” Nate checked his pip-boy. “It’s been more than four hours, that’s how long I’m supposed to wait, right?”

“Does it really hurt that badly?”

“It’s enough to get to me. It’s not gonna cripple me in battle, if that’s what you’re worried about, but…” He grimaced. “It’s definitely uncomfortable.”

“Mmm.” MacCready let it go, but resolved to ask Carrington about it the next time he got the chance.

 

Proctor Teagan was next up on their list, and he seemed friendly enough, though MacCready got the feeling he might be involved in some of the Brotherhood’s more questionable procedures. He sold arms and ammo, and though he didn’t have any questions or forms for them, he did brief them on ‘assisting’ with missions should they be stuck for something to do. Nate politely declined his request, but promised to return should they have the time. MacCready knew this was doubtful, thinking of everything they had on their plate at the time, but didn’t say anything. And finally, they met with the vessel’s resident mechanic.

 

The first and most noticeable thing about Proctor Ingram was the power armour frame she wore; unlike most of the suits present aboard the Prydwen, it was bare, lacking the heavy metal plating that the others had in abundance. Secondly… MacCready chanced a glance at Nate as she approached to greet them, and sure enough, Nate’s expression was one of surprise, his gaze trained on the metal framework where the woman’s legs should have been.

“Afternoon. I assume Kells sent you off to do the rounds, correct? Well, my name’s Ingram, and I do the handiwork around here. If your power armour’s too tight in the crotch, they Prydwen’s about to crash or a robot’s gone haywire, you come see me.” She glanced over them, and seemed to roll her eyes at Nate. “Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

“Oh, no! No, I just…” He backtracked, seeming to realise he was staring, and pulled up the leg of his jeans, showing her the metal underneath. She blinked, her expression registering mild shock.

“Ah. I see. Not used to seeing others with the same issue, huh?”

“No, this is…  kind of a recent thing. I’ll be honest with you, kinda thought my life was over for a while after it happened.” Nate adjusted the fabric back into place, covering the limb.

“I know what you mean. Took me longer than I’d like to admit to get back on my feet.” She gave a sarcastic smile. “So to speak. How long’s it been?”

“Maybe… four and a half, five months.”

She seemed surprised at this. “Really? You seem to be doing well for that short a time. I was still learning to walk.”

“A friend rigged me up with some useful tech. Hydraulic assistance, I believe.”

“I see. You’ll have to let me have a look sometime. I could learn something.”

“Yeah.” Nate smiled. “I get why the doc told me to come here now.”

“Cade? Yeah, he helped me rig this baby up.” She tapped the side of her suit. “Very useful, but… I do miss being able to fit through doors.” She grimaced a little. “Hey, if you want, I can fix up your power armour to accommodate. I can’t imagine it’s compatible with your prosthetic.”

“I haven’t actually tried, so I wouldn’t know.”

“Mm. Well, if you want me to take a look, I’ll get you measured up and figure something out.”

“Thanks.” He gave her a grateful nod. “Oh, I’m Nate, by the way. Nate Delaney. And this is RJ.”

“Uh, Robert MacCready.” MacCready told her.

“Hmph. You’ll be his… what? Friend? Hired help?” She looked him up and down, and MacCready could tell she was assessing his dirty, rough appearance.

“Boyfriend.” He told her, shifting towards Nate ever so slightly. She raised an eyebrow.

“Uh huh. Well, look after him.”

“I try.” MacCready gave Nate a look. “He likes to get into trouble.” Nate returned the look, narrowing his eyes ever so slightly. That made Ingram laugh.

“I can see that. Good luck.”

“Gonna need it.” MacCready grumbled, and Nate gave him a light shove on the shoulder, making him smirk.

“Alright, well, you’ve each got a storage locker and a bed, make sure to pick up a uniform, and don’t worry, yes you each have your own suit of power armour. Treat it well, maybe you won’t have to talk to me too much.”

“I don’t know. I feel like I could get along with you.” Nate had his charm on again, that self confident little smirk on his face.

Ingram smiled, raising an eyebrow at him. “I know some people who’d disagree with you.”

“I’ll do my best not to listen to them.” He responded, and she rolled her eyes.

“Go on, get moving. I’m sure _someone’s_ got a job for you.”

“Undoubtedly.”

She turned back to her work, and Nate faced MacCready. “I like her.”

“I can tell. I’m sure you’ll have plenty of time to talk later.”

“Yeah.”

 

They found their lockers easily enough, each with a cleanly pressed Brotherhood flight suit and standard-issue laser rifle. Somewhat reluctantly, MacCready got into it, feeling a little bit uncomfortable in the uniform he’d come to associate with so many bad things. Nate had some trouble getting it on over his prosthetic, as the material was designed to be form-fitting. When he finally managed to pull it up, he whistled softly.

“This doesn’t leave much to the imagination, does it?” He twisted, looking over himself. MacCready watched him, agreeing that yes, it was… very nice to look at. Nate caught him staring and posed, winking. MacCready wasn’t sure if he should blush or laugh. He ended up doing both.

“It suits you.” He told the redhead, grinning. “Matches your hair.”

“Shut up.” Nate moved closer, pulling him up from where he was sat and giving him a once-over. “Yup. As I thought.”

“What?”

He leaned closer, his hand on the small of MacCready’s back. “Your ass looks great in that.”

That did make MacCready blush, and he hit Nate lightly, aware of the looks the other soldiers present were giving them.

“ _Nate._ ” His partner chuckled, and kissed him lightly before stepping back.

“Alright then. Shall we get going?” He packed all their stuff away, except for their weapons and a few basic healing supplies. MacCready nodded, and off they went.

 

Before starting on their first mission, Nate suggested they stop for something to eat, so they found themselves heading back to the space that seemed to function as both a canteen and a social space. As Nate went to get their food, MacCready found himself sat at a table by himself. It wasn’t long before some one took one of the other chairs. He looked up, and saw Danse. For the first time since they’d met, the Paladin was out of his armour, and MacCready saw that he was almost as bulky without it, clearly someone who put a lot of work into his body.

“Soldier.” He nodded politely in greeting.

“Hey.” MacCready didn’t want to come off as rude, but he wasn’t entirely sure what Danse wanted from him. He wasn’t the sweet-talker Nate was.

“I see you’ve acquainted yourself with our superior officers.”

“Yeah. They seem nice enough. I like Quinlan.”

“You do?” Danse seemed surprised by that.

“Yup. And his cat.”

“Huh.” Danse’s attention seemed to drift for a moment, and he glanced at the queue where Nate was stood. “…And Knight Delaney?”

MacCready blinked, thrown off for a second. He wasn’t used to hearing Nate referred to by his last name. “He seems happy enough. I get the feeling he and Ingram are going to get along.”

“Hm.” Danse went quiet for a moment. “I apologise if I overstep my bounds as your superior officer, but if I might ask, what is your relationship with him?”

“With Nate?” The merc was surprised by that question. He didn’t think Danse was the sort to be interested in their personal lives. “He’s my fiancé, actually.”

“You’re engaged?” Danse seemed taken aback. “I see.”

“Is there a problem with that?” MacCready asked, mildly defensive.

“No! Not at all. I just-” He was interrupted as Nate returned, carrying food.

“Paladin!” He smiled as he took his place beside MacCready. “What are you doing here?”

MacCready caught Danse’s glance at the ring on Nate’s finger before he responded. “Just talking. If we’re going to be working together it’s important to ensure we’re on good terms.”

“Can’t argue with that.” Nate seemed happy to engage in conversation as they ate, and though Danse remained stoic and formal, he had plenty to talk about. MacCready couldn’t help but wonder why he had been so curious about their relationship as to approach him about it, but he didn’t ask.

 

After they ate, they reported to the Lance-Captain, as instructed. It turned out their first job would be to clear out an old military base by the name of Fort Strong. Apparently it was overrun with super mutants. MacCready was grateful for this, as super mutants and ferals were the two things he could agree with the Brotherhood on. Oh, and those creepy early model synths. Working with the Railroad had assuaged a lot of his fears surrounding gen 3 synths, so he really didn’t want to get caught up in an attack against any innocent synth settlers. The only part of this mission that was worrying him was the fact that they’d be going in by air. That and Danse had insisted they wear their power armour, so MacCready was back inside one of the claustrophobic suits, against his better judgement. It turned out that Nate could still operate one of the suits without too much trouble, as his prosthetic behaved in much the same way his real leg did. The mission itself wasn’t too difficult. After his initial discomfort, MacCready was able to assist in taking down the enemies that resided on the strip of land just off the coast, including a behemoth which absorbed, in his opinion, far too many minigun rounds before it finally went down. At first, MacCready was worried for Nate, since this was his first combat experience since he’d lost his leg. He kept a close eye on his fiancé, making sure to cover him as best as he could. Thankfully, Nate seemed to be taking his advice to heart, picking off the mutants with his rifle, and engaging them one-on-one when he did return to melee, rather than barrelling right in to fight four or five at once like he usually would. Of course, it did help that they had a number of Brotherhood soldiers fighting alongside them, including Paladin Danse, so there were plenty of combatants for their opponents to choose from. Once the outside was cleared, they began to make their way through the building. Nate seemed to lead the charge without even intending to, automatically slipping into a leadership role as they scouted the building. A few times, Danse would override Nate’s orders, reminding the troops who the actual leader was, but for the best part, he seemed to concede that Nate knew what he was doing. The power armour allowed MacCready to get closer to the action than he would normally, and he knew he’d be returning with a few new dents when the mission was over. At one point, a mutant hit him with hard enough force to knock him over, and he was grateful for the heavy metal casing, as he knew that would have resulted in broken ribs at the very least otherwise.

 

Before too long, the building was clear. Their goal- a decent-sized stash of mini-nukes- was apprehended by a group of soldiers, and the fighters moved aside to take a breather. MacCready removed his helmet, grateful to breathe in cool air, and watched as Nate did the same. The Paladin, identifiable by the red rings painted around the limbs of his armour, remained in the heart of it all, giving orders and assisting in the transportation of the weaponry out of the building. MacCready made his way over to Nate, finding a relatively quiet space for the pair of them to talk.

“Not sure how I feel about this kind of weaponry being in their hands.” He murmured to Nate, watching as a pair of knights carried out a box of the incredibly volatile miniature bombs.

“Mm.” Nate was watching too, an expression of mild concern on his face. “We should probably tell Des about this.”

“Well, we always knew heavy firepower was kind of their thing.” The merc remarked. “They’ve never been afraid to show that off.”

“True.” Nate turned his attention to his partner. “After we report our success to the Elder, we should go back to HQ.”

“You think they’ll keep tabs on us?”

“They’ll probably want some method of keeping tabs on us. I’ll talk to Danse about it. He seems more likely to be amicable to us doing our own thing than Maxson will.” He said the Elder’s name with distaste.

“Wow. You really don’t like that guy, huh?”

“One of my closest friends, the first friend I made out here, is a synth. So introducing yourself to me with a speech about how synths are the cancer of the Commonwealth is not a way to get on my good side.”

“Mm.” A thought occurred to MacCready, and he smiled. “Hey, if it makes you feel any better, I met a kid called Maxson back in my Little Lamplight days. He was with the Brotherhood troop that came for ‘negotiations’. I think they thought if they sent a kid they’d have a better chance of getting on with us. Most pathetic kid I think I’d ever met. Looked like he’d be more comfortable at home playing with his toys than being an ambassador for his cause. ‘Course, the knights seemed to treat him like some sort of prince. Basically pushed him to be in charge, even though he obviously didn’t want to. Wouldn’t it be funny if it turned out to be the same guy?”

Nate snorted a laugh. “Yeah. I bet that huge coat is him compensating for something.”

MacCready laughed, but before they could continue, Danse waved them over. They replaced their helmets, and obeyed.

“Moving out. Be ready to go.”

“Yes, sir.”

 

Back aboard the Prydwen, they returned their power armour to their stations, and went to report their success. Danse seemed to ooze pride as they stood before the Elder, much to both Nate and MacCready’s amusement. He told Maxson that his protégés’ first mission had been a complete success, and complimented the pair of them on excellent combat skill. Maxson, too, praised them for their service, and they responded with a formal salute alongside their thanks- something Nate had told MacCready was proper procedure. Afterwards, Nate stuck to his plan, pulling Danse aside to discuss their leaving. As they did so, MacCready was left with nothing to do. He ordered a beer at the canteen bar, realising how thirsty he was after walking around in that suit for hours. He found a seat, and watched Nate, waiting for the go-ahead.

“Impressive scar your friend’s got.” One of the other crew members- a scribe, judging by his uniform- commented. MacCready snorted.

“You don’t know the half of it.”

“You seen the Elder’s? I heard he went one-on-one with a deathclaw.”

“Oh really?” He smirked. Nate would find that amusing. “Nate actually saved my life getting that. We were by the coast- you know the lighthouse? Yeah, a couple deathclaws managed to get the drop on us, and, well, we can’t outrun those things. So he decides to be all noble and self-sacrificing. Managed to kill one of them before the second took him down. Fortunately I managed to finish it off. He scared me though.” His expression grew sombre. “A scar like that doesn’t show up easily.” He found himself staring at his boyfriend and snapped out of it, tearing his eyes away and glancing at the scribe, who was regarding at him with incredulity.

“He took on _two_ deathclaws? _Alone?_ ”

“Well, not quite. And they did nearly kill him.”

“Still.” The scribe whistled. At that point, Nate looked over, and beckoned for MacCready to join him.

“See you, I guess.” MacCready told him, and then ran over.

“You making a friend?” The redhead asked him as he approached.

“I don’t know. He just started chatting to me. Seemed friendly enough.”

“Fair enough.”

“So what’s the verdict then? Can we go home?”

“Yeah.” Nate smiled. “Danse gave me a communications device so they can call us in when necessary. Otherwise we can pretty much do what we like.”

“Good. Let’s get out of here then.”

 

As soon as they were out of sight of the Prydwen and the soldiers that roamed its base, they changed back into their own clothes and made their way back to HQ. Nate was eager to see everyone, to tell them everything that had happened, and to see what the latest on their Institute project was. MacCready couldn’t help but notice that Nate had really taken to the Railroad; despite how antsy he got when he was stuck there because of his injury, he seemed to really like the people and take pride in the work he did with them. It supported what MacCready believed about his need to make a change in the world, and he was grateful that Nate had found an outlet for that. And, well, whilst he hadn’t necessarily been a fan to start with, he couldn’t deny that he had a soft spot for them as well. Especially Deacon. After a rocky start, he felt like he’d gotten to know the enigmatic man a little better, and he respected him for what he believed in. So when they arrived on the steps of the Old North Church, it did feel a little like coming home.

 

Still, there was that looming threat. With Nate’s rehabilitation, and their being back in the field, that meant they were getting ever closer to the goal that, when MacCready had first heard about it, had thought was certainly impossible, or if it was possible, completely suicidal. And here they were, with the teleporter that would supposedly get him in there being built, and the plans laid out ready. It was… Well, it was terrifying. He supposed it was unavoidable, though. At this point, all he could do was help out wherever possible, and hope.

 

Hope had never been something he was good at.


	22. Take Off

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The plans have been in place for so long... It's finally time to put them into action. For better or for worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thus with this chapter I introduce my first true OC, I suppose. I feel like this chapter ushers in the next phase of the story... ooh exciting. Enjoy!

“I’m back!” Nate grinned as he strode into HQ, his head held high. He was greeted by a chorus of _hello_ s and compliments on how he was getting on, and the pair of them told how good it was to see them. They responded in kind, but Nate was eager to speak to Desdemona, so they didn’t stop to chat.

“Des.” He held up a hand in greeting. “I come bearing news.”

“Oh?” Desdemona gave him a look over. “You’re looking well.”

“Took long enough.” Nate grimaced. “Anyway, about our mission with the Brotherhood…” MacCready let Nate explain, his attention wandering, to focus on Carrington, cleaning medical equipment in the corner. The merc left the pair of them to do their thing, approaching the doctor. The smell of the cleaning fluid made him shudder, a sharp reminder of that horrible day several months ago.

“Hey.”

Carrington barely glanced up from his work, his expression cold. “You haven’t come to get me to hack off any more limbs, have you?”

“No!” MacCready fought a pang of irritation. “I wanted to ask you something.”

“Hm.” Carrington put the cloth and sharp-smelling antiseptic aside. “Make it quick.”

“It’s about, uh, Nate’s leg.” MacCready chanced a glance in Nate’s direction. “How long is it supposed to hurt for?”

“Depends on the kind of pain. If there are complications with the residual limb itself that’s most likely due to an ill fitting prosthetic.”

“No, it’s phantom pain. He says it hurts like it’s still there.”

“I see.” Carrington frowned.

“He’s been taking a lot of painkillers for it. I'm worried about-”

“Addiction?” Carrington interrupted him. MacCready nodded. “Yes, I’ve had a lot of people tell me that. It’s not an addiction problem. Phantom limb syndrome is more of a psychological issue than a physical one, and for some amputees it never goes away. People who don’t know that often accuse sufferers of painkiller addiction. Especially when said painkillers are in short supply. The truth is, it’s likely that pain will be with him for the rest of his life.”

MacCready felt his stomach sink as he watched Nate. The rest of his life…? That felt… cruel. Surely he’d already suffered enough.

“Of course, med-X does have an addiction rate, so it’s worth carrying a couple addictol inhalers around in case he starts showing symptoms. Shaking hands, inability to focus, that kind of thing.”

“I shouldn’t stop him taking it?”

“No. Not unless it begins to cause serious damage.”

MacCready nodded, feeling the knot in his stomach start to loosen a little. It wasn’t good news, far from it, but… At least he knew his concerns were unfounded now. He felt a little disappointed with himself that he’d ever suspected his fiancé of drug abuse, and he resolved to not bring it up with Nate. It wasn’t something he should bother the other man with.

“Now, if that’s all.” Carrington gave a sharp smile, a blatant _go away_. MacCready glared at him for a brief moment, then relented and returned to Nate’s side. Hey, just because he owed the guy Nate’s life didn’t mean he had to _like_ him.

 

“I hear you’ve been successful.” Desdemona addressed him as he took his place at Nate’s side.

“Yeah. It feels weird, though. Being on the other side. I don’t like it.”

“Understandable.” The imposing woman inclined her head. “But it’s key to remember that you are not, in fact, on their side. If that’s any consolation.”

“I guess.” He grimaced. “I still don’t like it. They’re so… _self-righteous_.”

Desdemona smiled a little at that, seeming to find it amusing. “So I’m aware. Anyway.” She turned her attention to Nate, her eyes flicking between them. “There’s someone I’d like you to meet. A new recruit, and quite an interesting one at that.” She yelled over their shoulders at someone behind them, and glancing back, MacCready saw a man in dark clothes look up at the call. He approached them, and MacCready couldn’t help but feel slightly put off by the way he moved. Too smoothly, too gracefully.

“Desdemona?” He spoke in a calm, quiet voice.

“This is Charmer and and Bullseye. The agents I told you about.”

“Ah.” He turned his attention to them. If MacCready was asked, he would have guessed at Indian descent, from the colour of his skin and shape of his features, but his eyes were striking, a pale blue-green that was unusual for people with his colouration. “I am Dove. Formerly A7-31.” He held out a hand, which Nate, and then MacCready shook. “I have heard it is likely I will be working quite closely with you in future.” He had a strange tone to his voice, almost a monotone but not quite. MacCready couldn’t put a finger on where he’d heard that kind of speech used before.

“Dove. Interesting codename.” Nate, as always, was immediately on his best behaviour, flashing a warm smile.

“Well. It may seem strange coming from someone like me, but I wish to be a messenger of peace between the Railroad and those of us running from our old lives in the Institute.”

“Someone like you?”

“Dove is one of our newest group of liberated synths. He is special, in that he has decided not to undergo the memory exchange and live in the Commonwealth, but rather to stay with us and help our cause. He is quite gifted with handling any synths who may be overwhelmed by their new lives outside the Institute.” He nodded his head in a subtle gesture of thanks at the compliment. “Of course, he is also special to us because he is our first liberated Courser.”

 _Courser?!_ MacCready almost jumped back instinctively, a chill running down his spine. _Of course_. He thought. _That’s why he sounds so creepy._ He recalled the way the Courser he and Nate had killed spoke, that same too-calm, quiet yet intimidating tone. And the way he moved, too.

“Are you sure it’s safe to have a Courser with all his memories intact in headquarters?” MacCready asked before he could help himself.

“RJ.” Nate hissed, before giving Dove an apologetic look. “Sorry about him.”

Dove smiled graciously. “Not at all. It is understandable, and not the first time the concern has been raised.” He turned away from them, pushing up black hair to expose the base of his skull. MacCready could see a couple of scars there, one star-shaped and messy, almost like the kind of scar left by a bullet, though MacCready knew no one could take a bullet to the back of the head and live- _could Coursers do that?_ \- the other a neat, surgical line. “I have had my chip removed. I have no means of contacting or returning to the Institute.” He turned back to face them. “Of course, I would not wish to return. If I returned now, they would have to reset me, and that is never a pleasant process.” He grimaced. “No. My duty now is not to retrieve those lost to the Institute, but rather to guide those who are lost to themselves.”

“We hope he might be able to give you information about the Institute.” Desdemona told them. “If you intend to go there, he may be invaluable to you.”

“Thank you.” Nate gave her a grateful smile, then frowned. “Speaking of which, where is Tinker Tom?”

“He has been at Mercer Safehouse for some time now, building your device for you.”

At that, Nate’s eyes lit up. “Do you know if it’s done yet? If it works?”

“I believe he’s running final tests. I fear we won’t know how successful it is until we put it to use, however.”

“I may be able to help.” Dove told them. “I have used the molecular relay many times myself, and may be able to assist you with the same.”

“Have you spoken to Tom about it? He had all the specs.”

“It has only been two days since I was allowed to leave Doctor Amari’s care. I am afraid your friend had left before I could meet him.”

“Ok, well you can travel with us if you’d like to. I’d like to head there after this, actually.”

“Nate!” MacCready turned to him. “You’re doing it again. Don’t you think we should at least stop and rest first?” The idea that this might be happening so quickly terrified him. As much as he hated to admit it, he wanted to delay Nate’s journey to the Institute for as long as he could. It was selfish, he knew that, but at this point he was edging into the kind of desperation that meant he didn’t care. “You need the right kit, the right armour, you can’t go there as you are now. Besides, you’ve only been in one fight since recovering, and that was with a lot of assistance, are you sure you’re-”

“RJ.” Nate interrupted him. “I’m ready. I don’t intend to take on the entire Institute single-handedly. I just want to get in, find Shaun, and get out.”

“Shaun?” Dove gave Nate a strange look.

“My son. The Institute took him.”

The ex-Courser was silent for a moment, his expression unchanging. Then, “I see.”

“What do you see?” MacCready regarded him with suspicion.

Dove’s piercing eyes held MacCready’s for a second, and he seemed to be contemplating him. “It is not my place to say.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” The merc turned incredulously to Desdemona, his focus flicking between her and Nate. Neither seemed to be saying anything, though Nate wore a faint frown. “That doesn’t bother you? You trust this guy?”

“Amari has been in his head. Watched his memories, taken his one form of contact with them. So yes, I trust him. If he knows something, I have every faith he has a good reason for hiding it.”

“No.” Nate spoke up, his tone hesitant. “I want to know. Is he in danger?”

Dove pondered that for a moment, as though weighing up his options. “I think you will find your task easier than you might expect. In the literal sense, at least. If my suspicions are correct, your son is alive and well.”

MacCready heard the light intake of air from the man beside him, felt him tense ever so slightly. “RJ. I have to go.”

The merc was reluctant, still not eager to trust Dove. It wasn’t that he doubted Desdemona; if she’d run the Railroad for this long and anyone outside of its walls still knew it only as a rumour, she must know what she’s doing. But… no one knew what waited for Nate on the other side of that relay. Except Dove. And maybe Amari.

“Did the doc say anything to you? About Nate?”

Desdemona frowned. “Why would she?”

“If she watched Dove’s memories she might know what it is he’s keeping from us.”

“I assure you, I am saying nothing for the sole reason that Charmer should be made aware of it in his own time. It is not a matter to be discussed by third parties.”

MacCready glanced at Nate. “Are you okay with this?”

Nate shifted in place, conflict in his expression. “I don’t know. I guess… as long as I’m not walking into a trap.”

“I doubt very much that you will be in danger, unless you initiate conflict.”

He held his discomfort a second longer, then relented. “Fine. You can tell me anything else you know on the way to the Safehouse.” Before MacCready could argue, he interrupted him. “We can rest at the Safehouse. There are beds, and supplies there. Besides, the relay might not be finished yet.”

MacCready was about to give in, but then another thought occurred to him. “Nate, can you swim?”

Nate opened his mouth to respond, then seemed to check himself. “I… don’t actually know. I don’t want to damage my leg.”

“No need to worry about that.” Desdemona reassured him. “Since you’ve been gone we have established much better routes. Dove can take you to our dock. Tom managed to get one of the old prewar boats working so he could ship electronics to and from the island. That and save our guests a swim.”

“Thanks. That’ll be perfect.” Nate gave her a grateful smile. “In that case, we should be off.”

“Charmer?” Desdemona gave him a look that was almost maternal. “Good luck. I hope we get to see your face around here again.”

“You will, Des. Promise.” He smiled again, and the little creases by his eyes were back, showing his sincerity.

“Good.” She turned her attention to MacCready. “I know it doesn’t need to be said, but look after him.”

“I will.”

With that, they left Headquarters behind once more, this time with one additional companion at their side. Dove walked with perfect poise, his stature and movement not matching the patched-together Railroad armour he wore. He carried a rifle not too different from MacCready’s own, except, he noted, it didn’t have a scope. _Figures._ MacCready thought. _He probably has super vision._ He wasn’t sure what the Institute did to their synths to make them so deadly, but he figured they must be artificially enhanced in some way. That led him down other paths of thought, and he found himself wondering if those enhancements would be compatible with humans, or if they were synth exclusive. Well, he was pretty sure no human Coursers existed, so that probably meant only synths could be made like that. He watched Dove as the ex-Courser strode slightly ahead of them, alert and lithe in his movements.

“So. Dove.” He spoke, prompting the synth to stop and wait for him to catch up. “Is that just a codename? Have you picked a name yet? Do synths pick their own names or does Amari give you one?”

“Dove is my codename. Doctor Amari designates names to most synths along with their false memories, but since I never underwent the memory replacement process I was never given a name. I would like to choose a name for myself, but I have not yet. I feel as though by adopting a name I will finally be my own person, rather than a belonging assigned little more than a serial code.”

MacCready nodded. “Makes sense. Be sure to pick a good one then.”

Dove smiled. “Yes. I will put much thought into it.” They fell back into silence again, but it didn’t last long.

“Tell me more about the Institute.” Nate asked in a way that clearly betrayed that he’d been itching to ask.

“The inhabitants call it a marvel.” The synth began, a slightly closed-off expression on his face. “Yet to many of us it is little more than a white-clad prison. I think there are many more who would agree if they saw the outside world like I did.”

“How come you’re the only Courser to think that?” MacCready asked. “Why haven’t more Coursers left if it’s that bad? Surely you’re strong enough to get out if you want to.”

“I am…” His pale eyes seemed to flicker with something- sadness? Distaste? “Defective. I am an early model Courser. They created me with a template based more closely on the human brain than most newer models. As such, whilst many of my physical traits are modified, many of my neural circuits are unchanged from the original template.” He inclined his head towards MacCready. “The organic model. I am more inclined towards human thought patterns and behaviour. They have tried to reprogram me. Every few months, I believe, though I never remember it afterwards. The biological aversion that is triggered by my proximity to the machine they use indicates it is an extremely unpleasant experience, though, so I do not lament the loss.”

MacCready felt his stomach twist at the cool, calm way Dove talked about what was clearly a traumatic experience. Like he didn’t know how to express his own emotion about it. From what he said, it sounded like a form of torture.

“They attempted to quell my displeasure by resetting my mind. Returning me to factory settings, as it were. But it always comes back. The only thing stopping me from leaving was my chip. As long as I had that, I could be tracked, recalled and reset as many times as necessary.”

“That sounds… terrifying.”

“Yes. It was most distressing. If it was not, I would not have gone to such extreme measures to free myself.”

MacCready stared at the dirt beneath their feet. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

“I attempted to destroy the chip myself. I was on an assignment to hunt down and reclaim a pair of synths held in one of the Railroad’s safehouses. My orders were to recover the synths and eradicate any humans present in the building. Instead I waited until I was alone on the surface and then took a railroad spike to the chip. I am sure you saw the scar.” MacCready recalled the mark on the back of the ex-Courser’s skull. He’d assumed it was a bullet scar, but a railroad spike? Yeah, that would leave a very similar mark. He suppressed a shiver, imagining the kind of pain that would cause. Dove really would have had to have been desperate.

“I damaged it enough to stop it working, and managed to get to the safehouse.” There was a tone of melancholy under the calm of his voice. “I am surprised I survived. Firstly from the damage I did to myself, and secondly that they did not shoot me on sight. I must have passed out after they took me in, because when I woke up I was under the care of Doctor Amari.”

“Wow.” MacCready wasn’t sure what else to say. He felt vaguely sick.

“I am grateful I am here now, I will say that much. And I will support the Railroad in its endeavours to free my fellow synths. They may call themselves the future of humanity, but the truth is they abuse the wonderful science they create, and see this, our natural world as worthless and deserving of destruction.” There it was. The underlying malice that had been in the voice of the only other Courser he’d spoken to. At least it wasn’t directed at him this time.

“We’re going to destroy it.” Nate said, quiet certainty in his tone. “They kidnap and kill innocent people, they manipulate and torture their own… They don’t deserve to exist.”

MacCready didn’t miss the sideways look Dove gave him, the sadness in his eyes. “Indeed.”

 

They reached the docks, and sure enough, a boat was there, being watched over by a surly woman with a sawed-off shotgun slung over her back.

“Kira.” Dove addressed her as they approached.

“Dove.” She responded, her eyes flicking over Nate and MacCready. “They don’t look like the usual synths.”

“They’re not. This is Charmer and Bullseye.”

“Agents? What’s going on?”

“They have business at Mercer.”

Kira scrutinised them for a moment, then seemed to let it slide. “The HQ lot are always secretive. I guess it’s probably for a good reason.” She stepped aside. “Go on then. Get on.”

They climbed onto the boat, MacCready having to steady himself as it swayed in the water. It was a relatively small boat, but big enough for the four of them. MacCready had to hold on to his hat as they left the dock, the cold air whipping past them. Beside him, he caught sight of Nate trying desperately to keep his long hair out of his face, and grinned at him. The redhead grimaced, trying desperately to tuck the loose strands into his ponytail and only succeeding in making the problem worse. Fortunately, the journey wasn’t long, and after a couple of minutes they pulled into the dock. Nate immediately pulled the tie out of his hair, shaking it out and attempting to re-tie it into something vaguely neat.

“Not gonna let it get too long, huh?” MacCready asked him.

“Shut up. I’ve had more important things on my mind than haircuts.”

“I don’t know. I kind of like it.” MacCready stood in front of him, running his fingers through it where it fell almost to his shoulders now.

“I was right about it being a pain though.” He let MacCready play with it for a moment before stealing a kiss and tying it back up.

“Mmm.”

“Come on then.” They thanked Kira, and headed for the barn that had been set up as a workshop. Further inland, a number of wooden shacks similar to the makeshift housing seen all over the Commonwealth had been set up. Tinker Tom wasn’t in the barn, however the Safehouse’s resident keeper was.

“It’s been a while since we saw the pair of you here.” He commented. “Good t’see you. You too, Dove.” He nodded politely at the ex-Courser. “I assume you’ll be after Tom, no? He’s been working on that contraption of his for months. He’s over by the ship with the ol’ generator in it. Think he’s piggybackin’ off its power.”

“Thanks.” Nate nodded at him and followed his directions. Sure enough, the site was unmistakeable as they approached. A huge platform, with metal arms reaching up around it was attached to a large satellite dish and a device absolutely covered in dials and buttons with webs of wire. Tom himself was stood beside what must have been the control panel, doing something with a screwdriver. He looked up at their approach, and MacCready could see his face split into a grin. He ran to meet them, waving.

“Hey! Man, have I been waiting for you to show up!” He gave Nate a once over. “Lookin’ good, man! How’s the leg treating you?”

“It’s amazing. Thank you.”

Tom clapped him on the shoulder. “Aw, it’s no problem man! Good to see you up and about!”

“So. Tell me, is it finished?” As they neared the contraptions, Nate looked over them, inspecting the network of wires and metal.

“You kidding? It’s been finished for a long time; I’ve mostly just been fine-tuning it for weeks now. Can’t take no risks, you know?”

“Glad to hear it.”

“And you brought our new Courser friend with you?” He glanced over at Dove, who stood straight a little way off. “Gotta say, fella makes me a bit nervous.” He muttered to MacCready, who couldn’t help but agree. “Diggin’ around in your own skull like that. No sane person does that.” He shook his head, then returned to the machine. “So, you want the grand tour?” He proceeded to explain the functions of each part of the machine, telling them to watch out for wires and pointing out the most vital components. He seemed immensely proud of the whole thing, and MacCready couldn’t blame him. It all looked very complex.

“Only issue is I haven’t actually been able to test the damn thing.” He frowned. “Can’t go sending people off to the Institute just for test runs, you know?”

“Yeah.” Nate regarded the machine with slight apprehension.

“It will work though, won’t it?” MacCready asked.

“’Course it will! You doubtin’ me?”

“No, I’m just… You know. Worried.”

Tom nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I getcha. Don’t worry. Your boyfriend’s safe with me, alright?”

MacCready glanced over at where Nate was inspecting the controls, looking fascinated by them. “Yeah.”

 

Nate, Tom and eventually Dove spent the best part of the rest of the day running over the specifications of the machine. Dove in particular focused on finding and tuning the instruments to the right frequency, tapping into the broadcast normally used by Coursers. MacCready quickly got bored, not knowing much about technology or how it worked. So it wasn’t until later that evening that he actually got to talk to Nate, having spent time helping out the people inhabiting the camps further inland. They stopped for food- nothing fancy, just a simple hot stew made by some of the island’s inhabitants- and managed to find a couple of empty mattresses to sleep on. They pitched up in the workshop, where they wouldn’t be in the way of the island’s other inhabitants. MacCready was kind of hoping they’d have the place to themselves, so he couldn’t help but be slightly disappointed when Dove also pulled up a mattress a little way apart from theirs. Over dinner, Nate talked about his plan, though it was painfully obvious how much he didn’t know. Far too much of his supposed plan consisted of vague ideas and improvisation, but MacCready supposed that couldn’t be helped. Later in the evening, Tom approached them as they sat beside the fire.

“Hey.” He glanced around, checking to see if there was anyone nearby. “I gotta talk to you.”

“Oh?” Nate sat up a bit straighter. Tom shushed him, sounding vaguely indignant.

“This is big stuff, man. Did Des tell you about the thing?” He spoke in a hushed, frantic tone of voice.

“Thing?”

“Man, I’m gonna kill her. Aight, I gotta pass a thing onto you before you go.” He glanced around again, then pulled a holotape from his pocket. “Right, right, so this is top secret, yeah? Only us first stringers know about it. We got a man on the inside.”

“In… Inside the _Institute_?” Nate asked, incredulous.

“Yeah. Only we don’t really know who he is. We gave him the codename Patriot, but we got no idea who he is really. Only that he helps the synths get out.” He held up the holotape. “We want you to make first contact. This is a message from us to him. When you get in there, you just gotta put it in the nearest terminal you find and upload it, yeah? It’s all ciphered up, ain’t no one gonna read it but him. You think you can do that?”

“Uh, sure.” Nate took the holotape, giving it a once over before slipping it into his pocket. “How do you know you can trust this guy if you’ve never spoken to him?”

“Any enemy of the Institute’s a friend of ours. Don’t matter who he is. Besides, we’re not telling him any of our deepest darkest secrets. Just what he needs to know to keep getting synths outta there.”

Nate nodded. “Okay.”

“Oh, and don’t tell anyone about him. Either of you.” He performed an ‘I’m watching you’ gesture, then stood up and left.

“That was weird.” MacCready commented. “You reckon this Patriot guy’s trouble?”

“I don’t know. Guess we’ll find out.”

“Mm.” The fire flickered against a gust of wind, and MacCready shifted closer to Nate for warmth. He didn’t want the night to end. His last night with Nate before he went away… He sincerely hoped both Dove and Tom were right. That the relay would work, and Nate would be safe. In a couple days’ time, they could either have achieved their biggest goal, or have lost everything. He rested his head on Nate’s shoulder, lacing their fingers together, watching as the fire slowly died.

 

Later, they retired to bed. Dove went before them, so the ex-Courser was asleep when they entered the workshop. MacCready regarded him curiously. Somehow he’d never thought Coursers needed to sleep. As quietly as possible, Nate stripped off his armour and weapons, placing them next to the mattress. MacCready did the same, but kept his coat about him to stave off the chill in the air. Their mattresses were pushed together, but even so it didn’t take long for Nate to roll over onto his, curling up against his side. MacCready didn’t say a word, but put his arm around Nate. Something told him he wasn’t the only one feeling apprehensive about tomorrow.

 

Even with the hardness of the floor obvious beneath the mattress, and the cold in the air, it didn’t take long for him to fall into sleep. It was restless, and he woke up a couple of times in the night, automatically seeking Nate’s presence for comfort, but the night passed, and before long the first light of dawn was lighting up the gaps in the walls and ceiling of the building. With it came the day MacCready had been dreading. The apprehension hung in the air. Nate was unusually quiet, though he seemed to have piled on even more affection than normal, stealing solemn kisses at every opportunity. He fixed up his armour and weapons, made sure everything was in working order, and seemed to be spending more time on it than usual. Tom was all over the relay, making sure everything was in working order despite having done so a thousand times before. Eventually, it couldn’t be put off any more. Nate, MacCready, Tom and Dove gathered at the site. Dove briefed Nate on any useful information he could think of one last time, and then it was time.

“RJ.” The redhead took MacCready to one side, the expression on his face thoughtful. “Um, before I go, I wanted to do something.”

“Are you really going to do this?” MacCready couldn’t help but ask, his insides twisting horribly.

“I have to.” Nate frowned, then stuck his hand in his pocket. “So, uh, this isn’t official, because I want to do the whole song and dance. Tuxes and vows and everything. But…” He pulled out the rings he always carried with him. The rings that belonged to him and his wife. MacCready looked up at him, feeling warmth stir the heavy weight in his chest. Nate gave him a quick, soft smile, then took his hand in his own, and slipped one of the gold bands onto his finger. Finding it fit, he laughed a little, and pressed a kiss to the back of his hand. “Perfect.”

“Nate…”

“I know it’s not much, but I wanted us to have something. A sort of- of good luck charm, I suppose.” He smiled, and MacCready could see that look in his eyes, the one he’d fallen in love with. “And a promise. That when I get back, we’ll do this for real.”

MacCready didn’t know what to say, so he just hugged Nate tightly, then pulled him into a kiss. It was rough and messy, an expression of his desire to keep Nate here with him, even though he knew he couldn’t, and when they broke apart, resting their foreheads together, MacCready was a little breathless. His fingers clutched the fabric of the back of Nate’s collar, and he sighed.

“Don’t die.”

He heard Nate’s soft, slightly sad laugh, felt the movement of air between them.

“I won’t. I promise you. I’ve lived way too long to let some nerds in lab coats get the best of me.” He pulled the younger man closer again, this time much slower and sweeter, then they parted, and Nate took a step back. He slipped the other ring onto his own finger, and held it up. “Look after yourself.”

“You too.”

With that, Nate took a deep breath, and stepped onto the platform, giving Tom the thumbs up.

“This isn’t going to hurt is it?”

“I dunno. You’ll have to tell me.” He began pressing buttons, and the machine started to whir, mechanical noises filling the air. “Good luck, man. Hope you find who you’re looking for.”

“Me too.” Nate sighed. “Alright. Let’s fucking do this.” He made eye contact with MacCready one last time, throwing a wink and a salute in his direction, then Tom pulled a lever and the world filled with a blue flash of light. Blinking away the imprint left on his eyelids, MacCready stared at the platform. The space that Nate had just been occupying.

He was gone.


	23. Building Bridges

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Before he actually stopped to talk to one, MacCready thought he disliked synths. That he could never trust one. But times change and people change, and he might have learned that not all of them are as bad as he thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHHH I'M LATE SORRY  
> It's now officially the lead up to exam season and I've had a hectic week, that and I've got a couple of other projects I'm working on right now. I promise I'll try and stick to my fortnightly schedule but if there are delays it's probably because I'm dying of exam stress *thumbs up*  
> Anyways, enjoy.

“Did… Did it work?” The thick smell of ozone hung in the air, phantom lights still popping and flashing behind MacCready’s eyelids.

“I think so…?” Tom tapped on one of the dials. “The readings look pretty normal.”

Dove moved to stand behind Tom’s shoulder, examining the device. “I have seen the relay fail before. It is… somewhat obvious when that happens. I would assume your friend is safe.”

“Safe as he can be in that place.” Tom murmured. MacCready touched the ring on his finger lightly. _Please be safe._

 

It was impossible to rest. Without knowing, MacCready felt trapped in limbo, not sure of whether to be proud of success or scared for Nate’s life, whether to be awaiting his return or- or mourning. Whilst Dove’s comment had somewhat reassured him, it was impossible to stop the flooding train of thoughts that reminded him of everything that could possible go wrong. In books, the characters always seemed to have a sixth sense, a tingle down the back of their necks that warned them when their loved ones in danger. In real life, no such thing existed. He was stuck, left with no way of knowing, and it was hell.

He ended up finding a quiet corner away from the rest of the camp, isolating himself as he tended to do when he was struggling with something. If he didn’t he knew he’d probably end up getting in an argument, maybe even a fight. It always came to that. He was anxious, there was no way around that, so he found himself biting at his nails, unable to focus on doing anything productive. So it was that when he heard a voice behind him, he jumped, startled out of his thoughts. His finger was bleeding a little, the result of his worrying at it, and he pressed it into his sleeve in an attempt to get it to stop.

“Bullseye.”

“Dove. Uh, hi.” MacCready looked up at the ex-Courser, silently willing him to go away. He wasn’t in the mood to be dealing with Dove’s weirdness right now.

“You were absent at meal time. You must be hungry.” He held out a bowl, and MacCready could see it was filled with noodles. He took it gratefully, only then realising how hungry he was. Had it really been that long?

“Thanks.” As he ate, the Courser sat before him, cross legged. Slightly put off by this, MacCready looked up from his meal, meeting Dove’s blue-green gaze. “Uh… Can I help you?”

“You are troubled. _I’m_ here to help _you_.”

“I’m fine. Really. As fine as anyone whose fiancé just got zapped to the most dangerous place in the Commonwealth can be.” He gave a short, insincere laugh. “Heh. So… Yeah. Don’t worry about me.”

“I realise that my nature as a Courser can be unnerving. After all, I was built to quite literally be a killing machine. However, if you could look past that I may be able to help. I have helped many before you.”

“Yeah, but I’m not a synth. I haven’t escaped from the Institute, I’m not struggling with my identity, I just…” He trailed off, picking at the noodles with his chopsticks. “I’m just worried about Nate.”

“Nate… That is Charmer’s real name?”

“Yeah. Nathaniel. He’s not very secretive about it. I’m pretty sure almost everyone in the Commonwealth knows him by now.” He laughed again, more genuinely this time. “He, uh, he likes to get around.”

“He interferes in other people’s affairs?” Dove asked, mild curiosity in his eyes.

“Are you kidding? I met him after he listened in on my argument with Winlock and- I mean, my ex-employers. He seems to get kicks out of fixing people’s problems.”

“Hm. He strikes me as a very headstrong individual.”

“You got that right. He’s stubborn, impulsive… I swear he never stops to think about anything, he just _does_ it. One of these days, he’s gonna get himself into more trouble than he can get out of. Heck, he’s already lost a leg.”

That made Dove raise an eyebrow. “I see. And you worry about him for this trait?”

“Of course I do. Guy’s told me at least a million times to not get worked up about it, but… I don’t know. He just keeps doing it.”

“But he has survived thus far.”

“Barely.” MacCready sighed. “You haven’t seen him with his shirt off. He’s more scar than he is actual skin at this point. I know he’s not deliberately trying to get himself hurt, but almost every time we leave the house he gets a new one. It’s ridiculous.”

Dove’s hands rested on his knees as he studied MacCready for a moment. “You don’t want him to be out there, do you?”

“When I’ve watched him nearly bleed to death half a dozen times? Not really, no.”

“I mean on the wider scale. You want to settle down.”

“That obvious, huh?” The merc picked at a loose bit of skin on the side of his finger, trying to get it off without bleeding and failing.

“I am surprisingly good at reading people. And you seem reluctant. When you are together, you want to keep him close. You want to keep him grounded.”

MacCready shrugged. “I’ve always been happier defending home base than trying to go out finding new stuff. I travelled because I had to.”

“And Charmer is the opposite. He is a leader, an explorer, is he not?”

“Yeah. I’m pretty sure if he had the choice he’d get the entire Commonwealth to rally behind him. But we’ve talked about this.”

“You have?”

“Yeah. When he gets Shaun back, we’re gonna go get my kid, and then we’re gonna be a family. He’s promised that we’ll put the adventuring thing on hold while we raise our kids.”

“He sounds like a responsible father.” Dove mused, and MacCready saw a faraway look in his eyes.

“No kidding. All this?” He waved his hand in the direction of the teleporter. “Going to the Glowing Sea- twice? Meeting and joining the Railroad? Going up against a Courser? He did all of that for his kid. He’d do anything for that boy, I swear.”

“Anything?” Dove raised an eyebrow.

“Feels like it.”

“I see.” Dove picked at a blade of grass absent-mindedly. It struck MacCready as a strangely human action. “What do you plan on doing whilst he is gone?”

The merc shrugged. “I don’t know how long he’ll be away. I don’t know where he’s likely to show up again. I’ll probably go home, it’s where he’s most likely to expect me to be.”

“Would you consider assisting me? I have been assigned a mission escorting a synth to a safehouse in Ticonderoga. I could use your help.”

“Sure. When do we start?”

“We will move under the cover of night. I have it on good information that our friend and his escort will be at Cambridge church at nightfall tonight. In which case, being that it is-” He glanced upwards, where the sun was high over their heads, only partially obscured by clouds. “-around noon, give or take, we should leave sooner rather than later to give us plenty of time to deal with distractions.”

MacCready thought for a moment, then nodded. “Alright. I’ve got nothing better to do. Better than sitting around being miserable.”

That made Dove smile softly. “Good. Finish your meal and get your weapons together. I shall be by the dock.” With that, he stood and walked away. MacCready watched him go with faint amusement. The synth really did have a gift, he thought, because he felt so much more confident and at ease now. He was still worried of course, but… somehow it was lessened. He decided he liked Dove after all.

 

It didn’t take long for him to be ready to go. Nate had taken everything he’d brought with him, so the only stuff MacCready had to retrieve was his own. Sure enough, Dove was stood on the dock overlooking the sea when MacCready approached. He could have been a statue if not for the way his hair was whipped about by the wind. He seemed to hear MacCready though, as he tilted his head a little at his approach, then turned to face him.

“Ready?”

“Yeah.” They boarded the boat, manned by the same burly woman, and sailed across the short strip of ocean. On the other side, MacCready wiped the salt from his face as Dove had a quick word with Kira. Then they moved off in the direction of Cambridge. As with the last time they had travelled together, MacCready found that Dove was quick on his feet, and he was having to walk faster than normal to keep up. They didn’t talk much, except to exchange comments about their surroundings and the possible presence of threats. It was around fifteen minutes into their journey when Dove stuck out a hand, halting him, and pulled up his rifle. MacCready copied him, looking down the scope in the direction Dove pointed him. Raiders. They didn’t look like anything special, and he was readying himself to shoot when he heard a shot from beside him, and saw the silhouette in his scope go down. He glanced over at Dove, and saw that the ex-Courser was already aiming for the next one, using nothing but the tip of his barrel itself to aim. MacCready felt a flare of jealousy in his chest, and raised the gun to his eye again, aiming and shooting. By this point, the raiders were alerted to their fire, and were attempting to fire back, but they didn’t seem to have spotted where the shots were coming from, so it was still easy. MacCready felt a little bit like he was competing against Dove as he desperately tried to pick them off before the Courser did. Neither of them missed their shots, and the small band was wiped out before they could get close enough to fire back. Dove whistled softly as he lowered his weapon.

“I see how you got your name. It isn’t many who can keep up with me.”

“So what's your trick? You got, like, super-vision or something?”

“The artificially synthesised DNA the Institute’s bioscientists use to create Coursers is specially written to enhance base biological traits. Whilst this allows us to have the optimum possible traits available to the human body, we also have a number of mechanical and biotech implants which further enhance our physical capabilities. For instance, I have retinal implants which improve my ability to see across distances, as well as enhancing my night vision.”

“Huh. And is this Courser-exclusive, or…?”

Dove laughed. “I am sure you would very much like to have some, wouldn’t you? I am afraid that Institute scientists have never attempted human trials of this technology. For all their eagerness to toy with the life they create, they appear very apprehensive towards repeating those experiments on themselves.”

“I guess that’s one less thing to worry about.” MacCready mused aloud.

“Indeed.”

 

Whilst Dove’s long-range combat was impressive, MacCready quickly learned that it was his close combat you really needed to be wary of. The next group of enemies they encountered was a horde of super mutants who appeared to be occupying the husk of a building on the edge of Cambridge. MacCready had hoped they would be able to walk past without disturbance, but it turned out they had guards patrolling the exterior of the building. Guards that attacked on sight. Unfortunately, the urban setting meant MacCready’s rifle could only do so much, and he found himself having to fire from the hip more than he could aim, a practice which had him missing far more shots than normal. It was at this point that Dove pulled him behind a half-collapsed wall for a brief moment of cover.

“I assume you are proficient at covering a close-combat fighter, yes?” He asked as he slung his rifle over his shoulder.

“Uh, yeah.” MacCready reloaded, taking advantage of the short pause in combat. “Do you have a melee weapon you can use?”

“If I need one, I’ll pick one up.” Dove told him, rolling up his sleeves. “You know the drill. I’ll keep them off you, you just take out as many as you can.” Before MacCready could respond, he had stood up and-

 _Hell. It’s like I’ve got a second Nate with me._ MacCready couldn’t help but roll his eyes as he pulled up his rifle again, balancing it on the top of the crumbled wall and aiming. If he was at all concerned for Dove, though, that concern was quickly eradicated. The synth was far quicker than the super mutants, and seemed to be able to pack a punch, too. Once again, the merc was plagued with flashbacks as he watched the synth, using the wall behind him as leverage, scale a super mutant’s back and snap its neck in one fluid motion. The next was impaled on its own weapon, a crude wooden shiv, and the one behind it took a bullet from MacCready’s rifle to the temple before it could raise a hand to attack the ex-Courser. Together, they managed to take out the enemy in minutes, and as soon as they stopped coming, Dove glanced back over his shoulder at MacCready and beckoned him forth before moving, running away from the building. The merc had to sprint to keep up. Once they were a fair distance away, they stopped, and MacCready leaned against an old bus shelter, panting.

“I doubt they’ll chase us. They have a home base, they’re like to want to keep it.” Dove told him, wiping blood from his hands calmly off on the hem of his shirt. “We should keep moving.”

MacCready nodded, checking his ammo as he steadied his breaths. “How much further?”

“Not very. We will be there in good time.” He glanced at MacCready. “You good to go?”

“Yeah. Come on then.” The merc shouldered his rifle, and set off once more. _I’m beginning to think Nate and I managed to kill that Courser more by luck than judgement_ , MacCready found himself thinking as he watched glanced sidelong at Dove, who hadn’t even broken a sweat. _I wonder if we could take him on and live to tell the tale_. He supposed he should just be grateful that Dove was on their side.

 

Dove was right. It couldn’t have been another ten minutes before the hollowed-out old church came into view.

“Do we know if it’s safe?” MacCready muttered, knowing Dove would hear him.

“No. We should sweep the area.” He glanced up. The sun was still visible in the sky, casting long shadows in the faintly orange-tinged light. “We have time.”

“Alright.” He and the ex-Courser approached the church with caution, and, at first, MacCready dared to believe they had gotten lucky enough that the ruin was still abandoned. That hope went out of the window when he heard the telltale growl of a waking feral ghoul. Swallowing the faint nausea that still haunted him whenever he encountered the things, he readied his gun and watched, staying completely still. Dove had split off, checking the perimeter of the building, so it was up to him. Fortunately, he was a quick shot, and was able to pick it off before it could rush him. He knew that the presence of one likely meant there were many more, so he approached the doorway of the building with slow, wary steps. He heard Dove’s gun going off around the other side. Glancing in through one of the shattered windows, he saw half-rotted bodies that would undoubtedly wake and attack him as soon as he got too close. The frame of the window was too high for him to be able to aim his gun through it, so he positioned himself in the door frame instead, scanning the area for the things. Taking a breath, he aimed the gun, planning to fire off a series of shots in quick succession that would take them out before they could fully wake. Steadying his hands, he pulled the trigger. Seven shots, seven corpses laying still in the dirt. But behind the pews he saw others stirring, others he couldn’t see from the doorway. He fired again and again, trying to take them out, but they had begun to locate the source of the noise. One stumbled out into the aisle, giving an inhuman screech as it took a bullet to the shoulder, and then rushed him, prompting him to jump back behind the wall, fumbling slightly with his gun. It hissed, an unpleasant gurgle as it careened into sunlight. Steadying himself, MacCready fired five more shots into it, watching it collapse for good, then cursed himself for being so jumpy and wasting bullets when one or two could have done the trick. Glancing around the corner again, he saw nothing in the main atrium of the church, so he ventured into it, keeping a tight grip on his gun. He heard more shots from Dove, though they now sounded like they were coming from inside the building. He heard a growl that came from above him, and looked up in time to see Dove emerging from a doorway onto the balcony that looped around the inside perimeter of the building. The flash of his gun went off a few more times, silencing the ghouls on the second level, then Dove vaulted over the decayed railing and landed with a surprisingly light thud in the aisle before MacCready.

“I believe the building is clear now. I have taken out those in the back rooms.”

“Okay. Good. What now?”

“We wait for our guests.” He shouldered his weapon and found a seat on one of the pews, pulling out a box of snack cakes. He offered one to MacCready before taking one out himself.

“Do you, uh, do you need to eat?” MacCready asked, having been curious for some time.

“Yes. Gen 3 synths, including Coursers all have the same basic needs as humans. We could not effectively blend in otherwise.”

“Huh.” MacCready nodded, taking a seat. The church fell quiet as they ate, and MacCready found himself looking around at the building around him. He’d never been a deeply religious person, but… well, it was nice to think that there might be someone out there looking out for him. He could see rotten, half-burnt books on the floor and the pews, and one, a coldly chilling image, resting in the arms of a skeleton. No doubt one more sad soul who had seen the bombs fall and retreated to the arms of God for salvation. A salvation that had never come. Having lived in the wasteland his whole life, MacCready regarded this type of scene with a sort of detached pity, but now… He found himself wondering what it was like for Nate to see this kind of thing. Maybe he’d gotten used to it at this point, but in the early days?

The merc found himself reaching for one of the books. The binding left black smudges on his fingers as he handled it, and he coughed as he opened it, the pages full of ash and dust. Many of the pages appeared stuck together, and those that weren’t had curled and blackened edges. Still, some passages were legible. He’d had a bible, back in Little Lamplight. Never read it cover to cover, not like some of the others. He’d gotten halfway through Deuteronomy and gotten bored. Still, he’d open it every now and then, and some of the quotes had stayed with him. Religion was a funny thing, he thought. People grasping at straws to find hope in a hopeless world. Personally, he’d never believed. He’d wanted to, but he could never bring himself to actually do it. There was something comforting about the idea that there was someone out there to watch over him, but he had seen too much, experienced too much. Any god that created a world like this wasn’t a kind god at all.

 

Eventually, he had to strain to read the words on the page as the light failed. He was considering attempting to find some sort of light source; a torch or a candle or something when Dove moved, standing in a smooth motion that drew his eye.

“They’re here.”

MacCready looked up and out of the window. He couldn’t see anyone, but he trusted Dove’s heightened senses.

“You sure it’s them?”

“No, but it is the most likely outcome. Be ready anyway, just in case.”

MacCready nodded, standing and moving to the door. Dove was beside him. It wasn’t long before he saw the approaching figures. It was easy to tell who was who. The escaped synth looked jumpy, insecure and afraid. His companion was an older man, armed with a sawed-off shotgun.

“I see Dove brought a friend.” He spoke gruffly, eyeing MacCready with mild suspicion. “I'm Stockton, and this is H2-22.”

“I’m Dove.” The Courser introduced himself to the synth, H2. “My companion is Bullseye.” He smiled kindly. “It’s our job to get you to safety. Stay close.”

“O- Okay.” The synth shifted on his feet, looking mildly uncomfortable.

“Right. This ends my part of the job. He’s your responsibility now. Ticon’s meant to have sent an agent of their own, so wait for him before you go running off.”

“Do you know how long that’ll be?”

Stockton shrugged. “Nope. Hang tight. Don’t let the ferals getcha.”

“We already dealt with them, no worries.” MacCready grinned. Stockton nodded.

“Fairs. Well, goodnight fellas. And H2?” The jumpy synth looked up. “Good luck. Have a good life.”

“Thanks.” H2 smiled awkwardly. “For everything.”

Stockton inclined his head once more, and then headed back off in the direction he came from.

“So, uh, H2, was it? How’re you with a gun?”

“A- A gun?” H2’s eyes widened slightly. “Do I need one?”

MacCready almost choked. “Well, yeah. It’s not safe out here.”

“Oh. Yeah.”

Biting his lip, MacCready pulled out his pistol. “Here. Hold onto this.” He held it out for the synth to take. “Just in case.” H2 took it, looking over it with apprehension. “It’s easy. Just point it at the thing trying to hurt you and pull the trigger. It’s fully loaded, and I doubt you’ll need it, so extra ammo shouldn’t be a problem. I’ve got plenty if you do end up needing it though.”

“Thanks.”

They lapsed into silence. H2 didn’t seem much for conversation, or he was too shy to speak. MacCready wasn’t sure if he should try to break the silence or if he should just let the synth be. He half expected Dove to step in and say something, since from what Desdemona had told him, his talent seemed to be in that sort of thing, but he didn’t.

It didn’t take long for the other operative to show up. A fairly serious man in armour that MacCready was beginning to recognise as a staple of the Railroad, toting a modified laser rifle. He gave the code phrase, and Dove responded in turn.

“Good. I am High Rise. And you will be the agents from headquarters, correct?”

“Yes. And this is H2.”

“Excellent. It will be your job to keep the raiders and the ghouls off of us. Now, we should get moving.” Without another word, he turned to leave. MacCready was a bit taken aback by his bluntness, but he figured that it was standard protocol considering the nature of their job. Dove lightly encouraged H2 to follow, and MacCready took up the rear, keeping a sharp eye out for anything that might pose a threat. Every now and then, Dove would call out, and he would swing his rifle around to take out whatever it was that had alerted him. H2 practically jumped out of his skin every time they fired, and Dove reassured him with soft words, keeping him calm. MacCready found it a little astounding that the ex-Courser, who had made him feel so uncomfortable when he had first met the man, could be such a calming presence to H2. He vaguely wondered if that was a Courser thing, or if Dove was just special. High Rise, on the other hand, was completely professional the entire time, and led the way through ruined streets. As they walked, MacCready found his thoughts wandering back to Nate. He wondered where the man was, what he was doing. If he was safe. Had he met with Patriot? Had he found Shaun? He hoped Nate hadn’t done anything stupid.

As he was distracted, he didn’t notice they were under fire until a bullet struck the ground barely inches in front of him. He jumped back, startled, and looked around for the shooter. Suddenly vulnerable, he tried to keep moving to avoid being hit. Dove was already up in arms, as was High Rise. The enemy, a group of Gunners, it looked like, were perched on rooftops. MacCready heard them yelling to one another. He swore he heard his name, and he growled, pulling up his rifle. _I thought Nate and I told you very clearly to fuck off._ Well, at least he knew how to fight these guys.

“Under cover!” He shouted at H2. The synth obeyed, and MacCready backed up. “Dove, they’re after me.” Dove glanced at him as he dodged another bullet, and nodded.

“Distract them.”

MacCready did just that, looking up and seeing flashes of green armour through windows and on roofs.

“HEY!” He yelled up at them. “If you want me, come get me!”

“You got your raider friend with you?” One of them yelled back. MacCready recognised her voice, and snarled at her words.

“He’s not a raider!” Out of the corner of his eyes, he thought he saw Dove scaling the side of one of the buildings with practiced ease, but he quickly turned his focus back to the Gunners.

“I dunno. What you did to Winlock and Barnes looked pretty fuckin’ raider-ish to us. That kinda thing? That’s like an open war declaration.” She trained her gun on him again, and he jumped back behind an old trash can. The metal rang as the bullet struck it. Making eye contact with H2 and High Rise as the latter kept the former in place with a firm hand, he grimaced, and then readied his rifle. He heard them shouting for him, taunting him. He rolled his eyes, then turned, taking a split second to aim and fire. He heard a yell of pain, and stifled a curse as he ducked back down again. _Non-fatal. Where is Dove?_ He did it again, and this time he was rewarded with a body toppling from the roof of the building in front of him, prompting a gasp from H2. It was five more shots before he heard shouts of confusion and panic from the upper floors. Dove’s doing, he had no doubt. With them distracted by the Courser now in their midst, MacCready was free to stand and aim properly. He had to move quickly, as they continued to move around and take shots. He took out three more before he felt a searing pain in his shoulder. He cried out, unable to stop the curse this time, and blinked back tears as he breathed through the pain, looking for the bastard that shot him. His arm shook as he tried to aim, but he managed to get off several more shots before the building went silent. Gritting his teeth, he continued to aim, looking frantically for more, until Dove appeared on the top of the building and gave him a thumbs up. He returned the gesture, lowering his gun and pressing a hand to the wound. Fortunately it wasn’t in the meat of his shoulder. It appeared to have glanced off his collarbone, leaving behind a messy, painful but ultimately relatively minor wound. High Rise and H2, seeing the danger had passed, approached him.

“Oh my god, are you alright?” H2 looked horrified as MacCready looked at his hand and the blood that covered it.

“Yeah, yeah. Does anyone have a stimpak?” He hissed as another wave of pain hit, the adrenaline of the battle wearing off.

“Here.” Dove’s voice came from behind him. He turned around and found the ex-Courser holding one of the familiar syringes out to him. He took it, and steadied himself as he injected the serum into the side of his neck, grimacing a little at the all too familiar sensation. The wound itched as it knitted itself back together. Rolling his shoulder, he deemed it suitably healed and threw the empty needle aside.

“Alright. Let’s keep moving.” He gave a concerned looking H2 one more smile and then set off again.

 

The rest of the journey went fairly uneventfully. MacCready’s shoulder kept itching for a while, prompting him to keep scratching it irritably, but it seemed to have healed alright. They didn’t encounter any more enemies, and before long they were on the doorstep of Ticonderoga, a nondescript office block that looked no different from the half a dozen others on the street. High Rise turned to them, inclining his head in a gesture of thanks.

“You two did well. Give my thanks to HQ for sending you.”

“No problem.” MacCready smiled.

“H2. Are you going to be alright here?” Dove asked the synth, who glanced up at the building before him.

“I… I think so. Thank you, both of you. You were… amazing.” He smiled, his eyes lighting up just a little, and MacCready felt his heart go out to the man. He found himself hoping H2’s life away from the Institute would be a good one. “Oh, and-” He held out the pistol MacCready had given him. MacCready regarded it for a moment. Nate had given that to him, one of the first gestures he’d made to MacCready that proved he cared about the younger man. But… he could always get Nate to make him another one when he came back. Because he would come back.

“Keep it. You need it more than I do.” He couldn’t remember the last time he’d freely given away something of his. Nate must be rubbing off on him. H2’s eyes widened slightly as he held it out, opening his mouth as though to protest. “Go on.” MacCready interrupted him, “It’s well made, it’s got a load of really good mods on it, and you need something to protect yourself with. I’ve got a million and one more at home.” The synth held his gaze a moment longer, then beamed.

“Wow. Thanks so much.” He tucked the gun into his belt. “I’ll look after it, I promise.”

“Good luck. Look after yourself.” MacCready gave him one more smile, and watched as High Rise escorted him into the building.

 

Afterwards, as they returned to HQ together, MacCready caught Dove giving him a sideways look.

“What?”

“You don’t normally do that kind of thing, do you?”

MacCready raised an eyebrow at him. “Has anyone ever told you you’re creepily good at reading people? I swear, you’ve only known me like a day and a half.”

“I was told you were an ex-mercenary. And the Gunners we encountered seemed to recognise you. Normally the people who associate with that sort are not the generous type.”

“Yeah well, the guy looked like he needed it. Provided he can actually bring himself to shoot anything.” He looked ahead for a moment, then sighed. “Aw, who am I kidding? I’m going soft. Blame Nate. He’s definitely the do-good type, and it must be rubbing off on me.”

“Kindness is not a vice, Bullseye.” Dove told him, a note of amusement in his calm voice.

“Maybe not, but it makes it easier for people to take advantage of you.”

“You are kind; you are not an idiot.”

“There you go again!” MacCready held out a hand in an exasperated gesture. “Talking like you’ve known me for ages.”

Dove chuckled. “Maybe I do have a gift.”

“Maybe.” The merc laughed. _Maybe I am going soft._ He thought to himself as he and Dove continued to talk, and he found himself liking the synth more and more, _But honestly, I’m happier now than I have been for a long time, so maybe that’s not such a bad thing after all._


	24. Where Loyalties Lie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are getting... strained. There are four factions in the Commonwealth, each of them at the others' throats. So what happens when one person garners the interest of all four?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, this chapter comes with a bit of sucky news. The reason this one's late is because exam season is just around the corner and I am stressed to shit. So I'm going to say that until exams are over- late June- don't expect regular updates. In fact, unless by some miracle I have enough free time to plan and write the next chapter, probably don't expect updates for a month, month and a half perhaps. Consider this a temporary hiatus- but it IS TEMPORARY. I swear. I just really need to focus on my grades right now. Thanks x

MacCready wasn’t looking forward to having to explain to their friends where Nate was. He didn’t know exactly how much Nate had told them; at the very least, he knew they didn’t know about his involvement with the Railroad. Still, he knew that this would be the first place Nate came to when he returned. It always was. So he ran over the story in his head as he walked back to Covenant alone, deciding which bits to omit. Dove stayed at HQ, having more tasks to discuss, and to pass on the success of their mission, and left to his own devices, MacCready began to dwell on Nate’s absence once again. How long should he expect him to be away? How long was too long? He had no idea what was down there. And if everything went according to plan, he would return with his son. MacCready would be a father again. And that was… well that was another train of thought entirely. MacCready hoped desperately that the kid would like him. He knew it couldn’t be easy, replacing one parent with another, but Shaun… he’d never really known his mother. Or his father. What if he didn’t like Nate? Didn’t want to be part of their family? That would destroy Nate, MacCready knew it would. It wouldn’t come to that. It couldn’t.

Even so, he couldn’t stop himself from entertaining this possible worst case scenario. Would Nate still be okay with helping to raise Duncan if that happened? MacCready didn’t know what he would do if Nate wasn’t ready to be a parent again. He couldn’t just abandon his son in favour of his fiancé. Would he have to go back to being a single parent? Just the though of that made his chest tighten, and he touched the ring on his finger lightly. No, Nate wouldn’t do that.

 

The smiles he was greeted with when he walked through the gate turned swiftly to expressions of concern.

“Hey… Where’s Nate?” Cait was the first to ask what MacCready knew they were all thinking. “He’s not-” She couldn’t bring herself to finish the sentence.

“No. Or… I don’t think so.” MacCready rubbed the back of his neck, not sure where to begin. “He’s gone after Shaun.”

“Gone after Shaun? Nick’s yellow eyes scrutinised him, shock evident in his expression. “You mean he’s…?”

“In the Institute? Yeah. At least we think so.” A ripple of sound went through the inhabitants of the town from where they were gathered.

“How?” Nick’s voice sounded almost afraid. “We found out from watching Kellogg’s memories that the only way in is by teleporter. Don’t tell me the crazy bastard built one of those.”

“Well… pretty much. Yeah.”

“Shit.” The synth swore under his breath. “And you have no idea what’s going on in there?”

MacCready shook his head. “If-” He took a sharp breath. “When he comes back this’ll be the first place he comes, I’m sure, so I’m just gonna wait here. It’s the best idea I can come up with. I can’t go after him.”

“Well, I can’t say I didn’t see this comin’. Boy’s crazy determined.” Cait slung an arm around his shoulders. “He’ll be alright. He might be a bit of an idiot sometimes but he’s a survivor. I reckon he could take on the whole wasteland at once and still find a way to crawl out of it victorious. A bit bruised’n’bloodied maybe, but still fightin’.”

MacCready smiled. “I guess.”

 

Much to MacCready’s relief, his friends kept the questioning to a minimum, leaving him on his own. Maybe they could sense his distress, or maybe they knew he didn’t have answers to the questions he wanted to ask. Either way, though, he was grateful for it. He couldn’t resist the lure of the collection of beer bottles kept in the cooler, and proceeded to retreat to his room with a few of them, to pass the time anxiously waiting for Nate’s return. His sore feet thanked him when he stripped off his jacket and boots and reclined on their bed, staring up at the slightly blotchy ceiling with the only marginally rusty light fixture Nate had gotten working himself. If he rolled over, he could smell Nate on the pillow beside him. That gave him an idea, and before he could help himself he was digging through Nate’s drawers until he found a button up that he knew was one of Nate’s favourites. Holding it up to his face, he closed his eyes and tried to imagine he was here with him instead of being off risking his life in some unknown place with unknown people. To some, the smell might have been unpleasant, that mix of dried blood, oil grease and sweat, as well as something else uniquely Nate that he couldn’t name. But it was comforting to him, and hey, he knew he probably wasn’t much better. Shrugging his own shirt off, he pulled Nate’s on instead, and went back to his beer and the book sat on his bedside table. Focusing was hard, but it was better than sitting around and moping, and the more bottles he went through, the easier it became to drift off and away from his worry.

 

His head was beginning to clear just a little when he heard the shouts from outside. He sat up, putting the empty bottle in his hand with the others and ran outside to join the others. He heard Nate’s name, heard the happiness in their voices turn to confusion. His heart leapt as he saw the redhead push past Piper, but sank again at the expression on his face.

“Nate…” He approached, but Nate walked straight past him, barely sparing him a glance. “Hey, hey!” Frustration bloomed in MacCready’s chest. He hadn’t done anything wrong, why was Nate ignoring him? He ran after him, up to their house, only to have the door slammed in his face.

“What’s going on?” Piper stood behind him, and he heard the concerned murmurings of his friends as he wrestled with the doorknob, only to find out that Nate seemed to have jammed something under it, stopping him from getting it open.

“I don’t know. What happened?” He asked, fighting off the hurt in his chest.

“There was… there was this flash, and then Blue was there outside the gate. I tried saying hi, but… Well, at least he seems to be in one piece.”

They both jumped as a crash sounded from behind the door. It sounded like Nate had broken something, and before they could react, more noise came from within. A shock of panic went through MacCready and he banged roughly on the door, yelling Nate’s name. “Come on, what are you doing? Open up, dumbass!”

“Woah, hey, is he alright?” Cait asked, running to the window to see if she could see in. “Fuck. Either your wall did something to offend him or he’s got some issues buzzing around in his head.” MacCready joined her. Nate was punching the wall full force, explaining the sounds coming from inside the room.

“Sh- fu- _aggh_.” He growled. “ _Nate!_ Don’t make me break this damned window!” Nate barely reacted, except to hit the wall again. MacCready swore he could see blood. “ _Nathaniel Delaney I swear to God_.” Finally, Nate looked up. The merc almost flinched back, the expression on Nate’s face unlike any he’d seen before. The redhead turned away, and then, begrudgingly, returned to the door. They heard another loud noise, and then silence. MacCready glanced sidelong at Cait, who tilted her head in the direction of the door.

“Go on then. He’s your fiancé.”

MacCready sighed, ran a hand through his hair, and then gently pushed the door open and slipped inside, closing it behind him. Their desk chair was on its side next to the door, suggesting it had been kicked out of the way, and MacCready could see the shattered remains of a lamp against the wall, below several red smears on the wallpaper. Nate sat with his back to the dresser, next to the bed, his knees drawn up to his chest. MacCready wasn’t sure what to say, so he just righted the chair and then went to sit in front of Nate. The redhead looked different, somehow, and the look on his face was one of a man broken. MacCready’s heart sank.

“Hey.”

Nate didn’t respond. His hand flexed, and blood ran over shaking fingers.

“It didn’t go so well, huh?”

“It’s my fault.” Nate’s voice was closed off, rough. Like he was holding back tears.

“What?”

“All of this.” He gritted his teeth, waving a hand vaguely around him. “The fear. The fighting. The death. It’s because of _him,_ so it’s my fault.”

“Nate, that makes no sense. Who is he?” MacCready frowned, trying to read Nate as the older man looked away, face twisting in disgust.

“Shaun. My _son._ ”

“Wait… What?”

Nate took a deep breath, and looked MacCready in the eye. “I was in that godforsaken vault longer than I thought. He’s all grown up now.” Nate smiled a twisted, bitter, cynical smile. “All grown up and leading the people who are terrorising the Commonwealth. I should be so proud.”

MacCready’s eyes widened as he tried to process that. “Shaun… Is the leader of the Institute?” _I guess that’s what Dove was on about._

“Yep. And I’ve spent the past couple days listening to him and his lackeys trying to justify what they do. Heard them talk about how the people of the Commonwealth are hopeless, damaged beyond repair. How we need to _cleanse_ the populace, and start again from zero. I can’t believe-” He drew in a sharp breath. “I can’t believe that came from _me_.”

“Hey. It’s not you. If he’s been there that long, then he’s been raised by them. Those are their words, not yours.”

“But that… That light in his eyes when he talks about it. That’s me. I know it is.”

MacCready thought of Nate in battle, of the excitement and fury in his eyes when he fights for a cause he believes is right. He couldn’t deny that he could see it. That kind of passion and… and _sadism_ directed towards the Institute’s cause would be terrifying.

“Are you gonna be able to stop him?” MacCready asked quietly. He hated to ask it, but if that was the kind of person they were dealing with, they needed to act, and fast. And for Nate, that would mean plotting the murder of his own son. The cruellest fate a parent could have. Nate’s bloodied hand balled into a fist once more.

“Are you kidding? I _want_ to. He’s my mistake, he’s my responsibility.”

That struck an unpleasant chord with the merc. Being a father himself, he couldn’t imagine being in that sort of situation. “But… He’s still your son, isn’t he?”

“My son is dead.” Nate’s voice was flat and cold, but he could only hold it a moment longer before he broke, hitting the chest of drawers hard enough to knock over one of the empty bottles balanced on it as he dissolved into tears. “ _Dead._ ”

“Hey, hey.” MacCready rested a hand on his lover’s wrist, a subtle gesture of comfort. Nate responded by pulling him roughly into his arms and burying his face in the merc’s shoulder. He shook with the strength of his sobs, and MacCready could feel his nails through the back of his shirt. His position was awkward, half leaning on Nate, half propped up on his knees, but he did his best to comfort the man. He just let him get it out of his system, ignoring the faint cramp in his legs. It was like this that he realised what was different about the man. His hair was brighter and shinier than it was normally, his clothes cleaner and his face and hands devoid of their usual layer of dirt and blood. He’d cleaned up, properly. MacCready couldn’t imagine what the Institute must be like. Did they have… hot water? Working showers?

When Nate finally let go, he sniffed, wiping his face with his uninjured hand and muttering in a broken whisper, “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“Yeah I do. I ruined our wall, broke one of those nice prewar lamps we found.” He attempted a half-assed smile, which MacCready returned.

“How is your hand? Let me see it.” Nate held it out, and MacCready took it in his own, inspecting the injury. The skin on his knuckles had split badly, and he could feel it shaking. “Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up.” He sat Nate on the edge of their bed, giving him a hand when his prosthetic gave him a little bit of trouble standing, and retrieved a bottle of antiseptic, a bandage and a relatively clean cloth from their stash. It was unlikely to need a stimpak, since he was pretty sure it was just a skin wound, but it would be sore for a while. Nate hissed when he ran the antiseptic-soaked rag over the open cuts, but didn’t pull away. It didn’t take long for MacCready to have washed all the blood off, and he wrapped the bandage around Nate’s hand tightly enough for it to stay in place. Nate would struggle to use that hand for a day or so, but it wasn’t too bad.

“I have to tell you something else.” Nate told him quietly as he tied off the bandage.

“Hm?”

“I’m going back.”

MacCready looked up at him, frowning. “Why?”

“Our best chance of taking them down… It’s from the inside. They’re too powerful otherwise. I’ve agreed to join them, that way I can learn everything and we can figure out the best way to get rid of them forever.”

That made MacCready pause in his work. “Nate… Don’t you think this is getting a bit much? I mean… If you do this, that means you’re actively part of the four biggest players in the Commonwealth. That’s not safe. If you make one mistake…”

“I know. I’ll have powerful enemies. But it’s the only way. Who knows, I might be able to pit the Institute and the Brotherhood against each other and have them wipe themselves out. The Railroad thrives on working from the inside. This is our best strategy.”

“Just… Watch yourself, yeah?” He stood up, and then bent down to kiss Nate softly. “When are you going back then?”

“Soon. I only came back because I knew I had to let you know everything went smoothly. Oh, and if I didn’t get any time away from that place I might have cracked and started shooting anyone who so much as looked at me.” He gave that cynical smile again. “Hey, can you pass on a message after I go? I might be gone a while this time.”

MacCready felt a pang of disappointment at that, but conceded that Nate was right, if this was their plan he was bound to be away for lengths of time. “Sure.”

“Tell Des I met with Patriot. His name is Liam Binet, and he’s gonna continue to get synths out. There’s something coming, though. I think there’s a plan to get a whole lot out at once, but I need to speak to Z1 and iron out the details.”

“Z1?”

“One of the synths in the Institute. He’s the one organising the proposed mass breakout.”

“Oh. Okay.” MacCready nodded, and sat on the bed beside Nate. “Are you going to stay the night?”

“Yeah. I’ll stay a couple days, at least. I’ve got some stuff I need to do.”

“Alright.” There was a moment of silence, and then MacCready hugged Nate again, kind of at an awkward angle but grateful for it nonetheless. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

Nate returned the hug, his fingers trailing through MacCready’s hair. “So am I.”

 

True to his word, Nate stayed for two and a half days, though most of that time was spent at his workstation. He had explained his situation- or parts of it, anyway- to his companions, and they had all been a little touchy around him since, as though the smallest thing would get to him. MacCready knew this didn’t sit well with him, which was probably part of the reason why he hid himself away. He wouldn’t show anyone what he was working on, and when asked, he’d just say a new suit of armour. He also spent some time tuning up his prosthetic. MacCready had the horrible feeling he was planning something, but he wasn’t sure what, and asking about it only made Nate reiterate what he already knew- that he was going undercover in the Institute.

“At this rate, I’m gonna be pretty well known. I need to keep my head down, okay?”

MacCready wasn’t entirely sure what that meant, but he figured he had to let it slide. Nate explained that he’d had a chip added to his pipboy which meant he could teleport to and from the Institute at will, and that therefore they wouldn’t need to travel back to Spectacle Island. On the afternoon of the third day, he packed his belongings once more.

“Do you have any idea how long you’ll be gone?” MacCready asked as he slung the bag over his shoulder.

“Afraid not. Good news is you don’t have to worry about me this time.” He flashed his winning smile. “I’m on their good side, and that means I’m safe.” The smile dropped from his face then, and he frowned slightly. “Promise me something?”

MacCready quirked an eyebrow, mildly suspicious. “What?”

“Don’t pick any fights you don’t need to. Remember- remember what I’m doing.”

“That’s kinda cryptic, don’t you think? If you’ve got something to say, then say it.”

“No, that’s all. Just watch who you pick fights with.” He said again, and then grinned. “I know what you’re like.”

“Whatever. Don’t be a stranger.” MacCready leaned in for a kiss, which Nate responded to warmly. He took his hand, running a thumb over the gold band there.

“Look after this.”

MacCready couldn’t help a smile. “Of course. Look after yours, too.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

He stepped back, and, just like last time, gave a little salute before pressing a button on his pipboy and disappearing in a flash of light.

 

In the following days, MacCready left Covenant once more for the Railroad.

“Des.” He approached the commander as she spoke with Glory.

“Hello, Bullseye. Dove tells me your mission went well.”  
“Uh yeah, but that’s not what I’m here about.”

“Oh?” Desdemona’s expression was curious. “Do you have news regarding Charmer?”

“Yeah. He came back.”

That surprised her. “It worked? That’s amazing. With this information, we can really begin to work on a plan for infiltration! Where is he? Can I speak with him about it?”

“That’s the thing. He’s gone back. He met with Patriot and another synth and apparently they’re formulating a plan to stage a mass breakout.”

“He’s gone back? Is that safe?”

“Yeah… That’s the other thing. You know he was going after his son Shaun?”

“Yes. I was aware that was Charmer’s primary objective.”

“It turns out Shaun is- Well, he’s the leader of the Institute now.”

“You can’t be serious.” Desdemona regarded him with shock and thinly veiled suspicion. “A child?”

“He’s not a child. Turns out he was taken a lot longer ago than we thought. And yeah. So he’s working with them now, and he said he’ll use his position within the Institute to help us figure out how to take them down from the inside.”

The commander took a breath, seeming to process this. After a moment, she asked, “Bullseye, how much do you trust Charmer?”

“With my life. Why?”

“You do realise what this means? Someone with knowledge regarding the Railroad’s most intimate secrets has a position within the ranks of our greatest enemy, and a personal connection to its leader. This is a dangerous ploy. What if he should choose his family over us?”

“He won’t.” MacCready told her with surety. “You didn't see the look on his face when he told me. He hates them. He hates them so much he’d be willing to kill his own son.”

Desdemona frowned. “That’s a strong assumption to make. But I suppose we have no choice but to hope Charmer remains on our side.”

“He will.” _For me,_ MacCready thought, but didn’t say aloud, _if nothing else_.

 

Desdemona spread the word of Nate’s success quickly, and informed the agents that they officially had an informant on the inside. The news was met with great enthusiasm, especially on Tom’s end. He wouldn’t stop talking about how he’d successfully built a working teleporter, and almost immediately began drawing up plans on how to improve it. He hoped, as he told anyone who would stand still enough to listen, to improve its power and range so he could get several people through at once. He stated that if they could get it working, getting synths out would be so much easier. By coordinating with Patriot, the idea of freeing that many wasn’t such an impossible ideal after all. Days past, and the new information led to a frantic increase in plans being drawn, everyone working at full capacity to produce more weapons and prepare for the inevitable oncoming battle. Charmer’s name- which had been struck through on the blackboard, MacCready noticed with a sharp pang in his heart- was rubbed out and rewritten, and became the new symbol of hope for their movement. At the same time though, there seemed to be an increase in trouble. MacCready sincerely hoped it was coincidence, but the number of Institute attacks was on the rise.

“This is getting ridiculous.” Deacon told a panel of concerned agents around the table after yet another incident. “In the past week alone there have been five reported hits by Coursers. _Five._ ” He spread out a map of the Commonwealth, five little x’s marking the places that had been hit. “Good news is the synths they’re targeting are troublemakers. Raiders, mercenaries, highwaymen. That kind of thing. None of our safehouses, or our agents. Wherever they’re getting their information from, it isn’t someone with any ill will towards us.”

 _It can’t be Nate._ MacCready thought. _He wouldn’t be willingly telling them he knows things. That would tip them off to his being one of us._

“The reports tell us the same Coursers have been spotted at each location. One a black man with shades, the other a guy with a very distinctive mask. The one in the mask seems to be the leader, apparently. With the combination between the increased attacks and the appearance of what we can only assume is one of their superior officers, it’s safe to assume something’s coming. Now, as we know, we have a man on the inside, but we haven’t heard anything from him since he left a week and a half ago. If we can contact him, we may be able to anticipate this new threat. For now, we keep our guard up, and if we can keep an eye on this character we may still have a leg up. I’d like everyone to go away and find as much information as you can from as many sources as possible.”

 

MacCready couldn’t deny the simultaneous disappearance of Nate and appearance of this new authority figure within the Institute’s ranks was… more than coincidental. He knew the people around him were thinking along the same lines, but it seemed that no one wanted to point the finger with MacCready around. His saving graces were the fact that the figure was described as a Courser by all reports, and no one mentioned any distinguishing features besides the mask. He kept an ear out for anyone talking about the man, listening for the one piece of damning evidence; whether or not the man had a prosthetic leg. He supposed the only way to tell would be to see him in person.

 

And what if this enigmatic new character _was_ Nate? Well, that meant he was leading raids to reclaim synths, a fact which made MacCready’s stomach turn. He knew from Dove what happened to synths back there, and he didn’t want to believe Nate would allow that. Still, each and every raid had been on those causing trouble. Threats to the common people. And MacCready knew Nate could be cruel to those he believed deserved it. Was that enough to forgive him? That and the fact that he’s obviously trying to work his way up their ranks, earn their trust. This was a dangerous game. And where did the Brotherhood tie in with all this? It was all… honestly, too much for him to contemplate. He found himself wondering where he’d gone wrong, to have ended up in the middle of a mess this big.

 

The message came a few days later, a field agent returning with a letter found in a dropbox. Written on ridiculously clean, well-preserved paper in a messy, familiar script.

 

_HQ._

_This is a warning. The Institute has the location of Bunker Hill, and they’re planning on raiding it and reclaiming the synths there in two days’ time. I’ve tried to do my part to keep them away from our people but there’s no talking them down from this one. I hate to say it but I’m not gonna be able to fight for you guys this time. Be ready._

_-C_

 

“Fuck.” Des read the letter, then re-read it. “Alright… Well, I guess it’s time to prepare for battle then.”

 

Two days wasn’t long enough to prepare for a fight against the Institute itself, they all knew that. But it didn’t mean they weren’t going to try. Fear buzzed throughout the agents as they assembled weapons and armour, stocked up on ammo and trained harder than ever. A message was sent to Bunker Hill to tell them to prepare for the hit- as well as they could, anyway. It looked like everyone was going to take part. Des, Deacon, Glory, even Tom and Carrington were preparing themselves. The following day, they moved out, setting up at Bunker Hill. The ramshackle little town had been fortified using whatever scrap could be found, several new turrets and barricades having been built, but looking around, it was a dismal affair. Everyone seemed to be thinking the same thing: They weren’t going to last the night. MacCready pitched up in a quiet corner, away from the bustle of the other agents, with their less-than-inspiring talk and uncomfortable restlessness. They were setting him on edge, so instead he quietly set about replenishing his stock of ammo, counting bullets and slipping them into the belt he wore, ready for use.

“Bullseye.” A soft voice broke his concentration, and he looked up.

“Dove.” The synth was regarding him coolly, his hand resting on the modified laser rifle at his belt.

“Are you prepared?” He asked, the off-putting calm in his voice seeming even more intense when compared to the high-strung people all around him.

“As I’ll ever be.” MacCready told him, wearing a half-grimace. “They’re going to send Coursers, aren’t they?”

“It is likely, yes. But you have experience fighting us, do you not?”

“One of you. And Nate was with me. This time… he’s not.”

“Do you think he’ll be fighting on their side?” Dove asked. It was a blunt question, but one that needed to be asked.

“I don’t know. I don’t think so. If he is, he won’t actively attack us. Knowing him, he’ll figure out some strange way to get everyone to fight alongside him.” MacCready filled the clip of his rifle, and loaded it. “He’ll help us. However he can.”

“Your faith in him is remarkable.” Dove commented. “Anyone else would be afraid, I’m sure.”

“He sent us the letter. He’s still on our side.”

“Hm.” Dove’s tone was pensive. “Forgive me. I don’t mean to cast aspersions. I don’t know him like you do, and being from where I am, the concept of loyalty beyond that garnered through force is still somewhat of an unknown concept.”

“Nate does what’s right. I know he does."

Dove nodded, and said nothing more. MacCready retuned to working on his gun, and together they prepared in silence.

 

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” Glory swore, her grip on her minigun tightening. The sun was setting when the first gun fired, but it didn’t come from where it was expected to.

“The Brotherhood are here?” MacCready heard someone shout, and he blanched. The Brotherhood? Who tipped them off? Was it Nate? No, he wouldn’t be that stupid. But this… did put a spanner in the works. He couldn’t be seen fighting with the Railroad; it would blow his cover. He was glancing around in somewhat of a panic when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned to see a familiar pair of sunglasses, though the rest of Deacon’s look was entirely different once again.

“Find high ground. You’re our sniper, you don’t need to be on the ground where they can see you.”

MacCready nodded, and retreated. He recalled his Gunner training, and, slinging his rifle over his shoulder, scaled the tallest structure he could find, perching atop the roof and lying flat on his stomach, the tip of his rifle the only thing visible from the ground. This felt too familiar. From here, through the scope he could see the fighting commence. There were knights in power armour fighting amongst the infantry, and that worried him. The only person with firepower enough to take on a suit of fully functional power armour was Glory, and he could see at least five suits. He could only hope the ingenuity of the Railroad would serve to keep them at bay. As it was, he was almost relieved when the Brotherhood knights turned their attention towards the all too familiar sharp blue glow of Institute weaponry.

“Here we go.” He muttered, and aimed down the scope.

 

As deeply entrenched in focus as he was, when he heard a voice behind him he was startled out of his little bubble, jumping at the sound.

“Bullseye.”

“Jesus, Dove, don’t sneak up on a man when he’s shooting.” He glared over his shoulder, only to stop when he saw the man’s expression.

“They’re here.”

“No shi-” He growled. “I know. I’m trying to take out as many of them as I can.”

“No. _They’re_ here. The Coursers.”

“What?” A chill went down his spine, and he followed the line of Dove’s sight. Three of them, in unmistakeable black armour. And the one in the front, gesturing to the others and directing them as they headed into battle, wearing a black mask that covered most of his face. He couldn’t hold back the swear this time, and wiped suddenly sweaty palms against his duster. Exchanging a look with Dove, he repositioned himself against the roof, and aimed.


	25. The Long Con

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Battle of Bunker Hill is in full swing, and the lines between friend and foe are becoming more blurred than ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I FINISHED MY EXAMS YESTERDAY AND SPENT THE ENTIRETY OF TODAY AT MY LAPTOP ARE YOU PROUD OF ME BECAUSE I AM  
> Anyways, with that mess out of the way I am back and I hope to be on a regular update schedule once more. I got some really lovely comments over the exam season, and I'd like to give a special shoutout in particular to Popgas07 for literally making me tear up at college with the things that they said. It means the world to me, really.

MacCready’s insides were a mess. On the other end of his scope was their enemy: a man dressed in the black leather armour of the Institute Coursers, a man wearing a mask similar to the rebreathers present on the helmets of power armour that covered almost every inch of his face. A man who held himself with confidence, a clear figure of strength and importance as he directed the synths around him into battle.

 

A man with red hair long and loose around the mask, a sharp contrast to the black he was dressed in.

 

The ring around MacCready’s finger felt heavy as he watched the man down the barrel of his gun. It was him, wasn’t it?

“Are you going to shoot him, Bullseye?” Dove’s voice was quiet, just audible over the noise of battle. MacCready watched as a brave young Brotherhood soldier rushed the commander, only for him to dodge easily, wrestle the soldier’s rifle from his grip and crack him over the back of the head with it. The soldier collapsed, incapacitated… but not killed. MacCready’s finger curled around the trigger. He tilted the barrel just a little, taking a sharp breath, and fired. The man took a half step back, his mask turning up to look around for the source of the shot, unharmed. MacCready’s chest burned, and he swore loudly, wanting for a split second to throw his gun aside.

“You missed.” Dove sounded surprised.

“No I didn’t.” MacCready hissed, his hands tightened into fists.

“He does not seem wounded.”

“That’s because he can’t _feel it._ ” He hadn’t missed. He’d fired a shot designed to incapacitate, a shot straight to the man’s kneecap that should have left him lame. “I shot him in the leg. The leg that he _doesn’t have._ ”

That rendered Dove silent for a moment. “I see.”

MacCready fought the pain in his chest, fought the way his breath came in shallow gasps. He wasn’t going to have to fight against Nate, was he? He didn’t think he could handle it if he did.

“I’ll need to go.” Dove told him, sharp eyes watching the trio of Coursers- the two Coursers and Nate- as they began to engage their opponents with quick, ruthless efficiency. MacCready’s own gaze was glued to Nate, watching as he dispatched another two Brotherhood soldiers and a Railroad agent. To his relief, none of them appeared to have sustained fatal injuries. Even if Nate was fighting for the enemy, he wasn’t killing any of their people. Not yet, anyway. The other two, though…

“Our agents cannot match them in strength. I will engage them myself.”

MacCready glanced up at him, concern in his expression. “Dove, that’s not safe.”

“We are in battle, Bullseye. There is no such thing as safe. Don’t worry. I will attempt to engage them separately, and I won’t touch Charmer. He is not a threat to us, it seems.”

“Not yet…” MacCready murmured. He’d said once, a long time ago, that Nate would make a terrifying enemy, if he ever faced down the man’s blade. Was that what this was about to come to?

Dove gave him one last nod and swung himself over the edge of the building, scaling it with ease. One of the Coursers was engaging a Brotherhood Paladin in full power armour, and he was very efficient about it, shooting at joints MacCready knew were weak. The Paladin fought back valiantly, the red stripes on their limbs standing out against the dark, meticulously polished armour, but it looked like it would be a losing battle. That was, until Dove stepped in, quick as a flash, grabbing the Courser’s wrist and twisting, throwing off his aim. MacCready watched them fight with awe, almost unable to track their movements, as fast as they were. They seemed to be matched blow-for-blow, and MacCready watched with growing concern as Dove sustained a laser shot at point-blank range to the shoulder, only to wrestle the gun from his opponent’s grip and land a harsh blow to his ribs. MacCready aimed, and was about to shoot when the Paladin beat him to it, and the Courser glowed and disintegrated after a red beam hit the side of his head. Dove pressed a hand to his injured shoulder, and looked over at the Paladin. For one heart-stopping moment, the Paladin raised their weapon, and MacCready thought they were going to put down Dove, too, but then they just saluted and moved on to fight another wave of gen 2 synths that were incoming. Shaking his head, MacCready snapped out of it, and swung his rifle back around. He shot at any white-cased synths he saw, focusing on taking out those who were attacking Railroad agents. He shot the occasional orange-suited Brotherhood soldier too, though the Railroad and the Brotherhood seemed to have banded together to hold back the Institute, and very few of them were fighting each other. Even as he sat on his rooftop, though, he kept a careful watch on the red-haired ‘Courser’. He seemed to be making straight for the structure in the centre of the encampment. The cover for the tunnels in which the Railroad synths were being held.

“Oh no you don’t…” MacCready bit. That might be Nate, but MacCready was still Railroad, and it was his job to make sure no Institute soldier got to them, no matter who that soldier seemed to be. It was a risk, but he wasn’t going to shoot at Nate. He couldn’t do that. Instead, he shouldered his gun and got up, running to the side of the building and beginning to climb down, careful to stay out of sight of any shooters on the ground. It took him maybe five minutes to reach the ground, as proficient as he was, and he kept his head down and his hat over his face as he sprinted through the battlefield, dodging enemies and shots. He stumbled over a body and nearly fell, scuffing his hands in the dirt as he pushed himself back up, a shot missing him by a couple of inches and startling him. He zigzagged through the grounds, making himself a difficult target to hit, and headed down to the stairs which led to the chambers below Bunker Hill, the entrance already wide open. He stifled a swear and used the system of exposed pipes and metal walkways over the main chamber to avoid conflict. He saw Nate with the last Courser at his side fighting their way through the defences. As they shot at and blew up the turrets that MacCready had watched being built not too long before, he made his way to the other side of the room and dropped down in front of them. The impact jarred his ankles, and he stood, panting for a moment. He was being impulsive. Dangerously so. He was putting all his trust in the assumption that it was, in fact, Nate before him, that Nate was still truly on their side, and that Nate would be able to stop the Courser at his side from dispatching him himself.

 

If his presence threw Nate off, he didn’t show it, the mask impassive. When he didn’t instantly move to attack, the Courser at his side did, his hands dark with blood as he strode towards MacCready. MacCready’s breath hitched, and his hand went to the pistol he had stowed in his belt, but before he could raise it, Nate raised a hand, signalling for the Courser to stop.

“Sir?” The Courser asked in a voice that was coldly impassive.

“Stand down, X6. No unnecessary bloodshed.” The voice was muffled, slightly warped by the rebreather, but familiar. MacCready’s jaw tightened. “Move.” Nate commanded. MacCready didn’t respond, except to glare at the reflective black glass covering Nate’s eyes. He caught the tensing of Nate’s hand around the blade in his hand- not the wickedly sharp one they’d retrieved from Dunwich, he noted- out of the corner of his eye. “I won’t say it again.” MacCready slid his foot into a defensive position, pulling out the pistol. He silently tilted his head, a wordless plea. _Don’t make me do this_.

“Sir, this is pointless. These… miscreants will not stand aside, even for stolen Institute property. Allow me to dispatch him.”

“No.” Nate said in a quietly assured tone. Then there was a barely audible _click_ as he adjusted his position, and he rushed MacCready fast enough to throw him off. By the time he had the pistol out he couldn’t shoot a shot he could be sure wouldn’t hit anything vital, and a split second later there was a gloved hand around his wrist, twisting it away from Nate’s body. MacCready fought, kicking at Nate’s prosthetic and yanking his arm away at the same time, throwing him off balance but failing to take him off his feet. Nate’s style was brute force, he knew, so he wasn’t surprised when Nate got up close to him, close enough to be disconcerting, and elbowed him sharply in the ribs. MacCready cried out and tried to push him away, doubling over, only to have that cold grip back around his arm. Nate shoved him bodily against the wall, one hand around his wrist and the other around his neck. He expected choking pressure, pain and breathlessness, but when Nate pressed down it was barely enough to be uncomfortable, let alone cut off his air. He swallowed, and he knew Nate could feel the motion of his throat. Nate leaned in, putting his face between MacCready’s and the Courser- X6. MacCready could hear the rough sound of his breathing behind the mask, could smell his blood-and-oil smell mingled with the leather smell of his armour.

“I told you not to pick fights.” Nate murmured, and his voice was barely audible. “I know what I’m doing. Don’t blow my cover.” MacCready wanted to speak to him, to yell at him, but when he opened his mouth to form the words Nate pressed down hard and all that came out was a choked sound. He struggled for breath for a moment and then Nate’s grip weakened again, and he gasped. “Please, for God’s sake, RJ, I don’t want to hurt you.”

 _But you will_. MacCready thought, and his chest felt tight. _Nate, please, I thought I knew you, I thought you loved me…_

“Go. Go back above ground, and rejoin the battle. Please.” Nate pleaded, and then he let go. MacCready drew in a sharp breath, and looked up at that inhuman mask framed by bright red hair.

“Go.” He stated, his tone returning to that of the cold commander. MacCready glared until he felt the flat of a blade against his shoulder, and the look he gave Nate was full of hurt before he turned tail and fled.

 

After that, it didn’t take long for the battle to be over. They had failed, and the Institute had recaptured the synths. As soon as the Institute’s forces retreated, the Brotherhood left too, seemingly uninterested in the scattered remains of the Railroad. MacCready saw Dove being attended to by Carrington, his armour peeled away to reveal warped and burned flesh where the shot had hit, a wound that would scar nastily. He saw Glory helping injured agents into the encampment, and Deacon frisking corpses for their valuables. He busied himself by doing the same, taking ammo, caps and medical supplies from the bodies that stained the ground with blood. He was no stranger to the aftermath of a battle, but even so his stomach turned at the smell and the sight; blood, burned flesh, gunpowder, ozone and worse things mingling into a thick stench that stung his nose and eyes. He didn’t care. Anything to distract him from what was going on in his head. Even so, the thoughts fought their way to the surface of his mind. Nate had _threatened_ him. Pinned him to the wall and choked him. Sure, he hadn’t caused any actual damage, but… just how far was he willing to go for his cause? His ploy? Because right now- right now it looked like he was playing the part a little _too_ well.

 

They spent long hours clearing the battlefield, heaping up the bodies and burning them, collecting weapons and armour and starting repairs on the damaged structures of the little town. The atmosphere was heavy, the inhabitants and Railroad agents disheartened by their loss. The market was turned into a makeshift hospital, and MacCready found himself roped into helping Carrington bandage up the injured, cleaning bullet wounds and wrapping broken limbs in splints. MacCready found himself wondering how many of the invalids had been put out of action by Nate. It was hard work, and by the time they were done, the first lights of dawn were breaking on the horizon. MacCready was dead on his feet, sore from exertion, eyes heavy and mind thick with exhaustion, so when Deacon tapped him on the shoulder it made him jump.

“Bullseye. Hey. Des wants a word.”

“Oh… Okay.” MacCready pushed himself to his feet reluctantly, and followed Deacon to Desdemona’s location. He wasn’t the only one there; she seemed to have gathered all the HQ agents together to address them as one.

“Right.” She took a breath, drawing herself up. “We suffered a loss today, no one can doubt that. But right now sitting around licking our wounds is the least helpful thing we could be doing. Yes, a key location has been compromised, but with the establishment of Mercer safehouse we still have the required number of locations up and running for effective operations. Right now we need to withdraw and begin putting plans in place to redistribute our people, maybe look at setting up a new base. We need allies, and Deacon has come to me with a proposal.” She glanced over at him, and he nodded, taking up the role of speaker.

“In my off time I’ve been hanging with some people that Charmer and Bullseye introduced me to in that old town, Covenant.” A ripple of discussion went through the assembled agents at the name, and Deacon shushed them “I know, in the past that town has been less than friendly to us. But the town’s been under new management for a while now. And among the people in that town is a guy named Preston Garvey. Lieutenant of the newly reformed Commonwealth Minutemen. Apparently with Charmer’s help they’ve re-established themselves, put together a network of settlements throughout the Commonwealth, including re-populating and re-arming the old Castle. They’ve never shown any ill will towards us, or synths in general, and so I was thinking it may be to our tactical advantage to propose an alliance. Garvey is a friend, and a high ranking official within their ranks. If we allied with them, we may be able to use their settlements as safehouses or protected trade routes, and with their recent success we would be able to start operations on a much larger scale. Of course there is one issue, and that brings me to the elephant in the room.

“Charmer is their general. Charmer is our informant in the Institute, a key player in our operations. And Charmer was on their side in this battle. He cleared the path for them to get to the synths.”

“He did warn us.” Glory interrupted. “He said in his letter that he wouldn’t be able to fight for us in this battle.”

“And that’s why this is a difficult issue. So far, he has danced the line of crossing us, but he hasn’t actually, you know… crossed it. He hasn’t gone behind our backs with anything. Technically, we don’t have any grounds with which to declare him an enemy. However, his loyalty is being pulled into question, and with the knowledge he has, choosing to continue to trust him is a massive risk.” His eyes found MacCready in the group, and he grimaced. “Bullseye, you have the closest personal connection to Charmer. Is there anything you can give us, any assurance that he’s still loyal to us?”

MacCready opened his mouth, but he didn’t know what he could say. “I think he’d been planning the whole… Courser thing before. He told me to be careful who I pick fights with, and to remember what his plan was. I think-” _I want to believe-_ “that he’s playing the long con. Next time I see him I’ll see what I can get from him.”

Deacon nodded. “Until we can be sure, we’ll place him under watch, and everyone… try not to openly discuss plans with him. I hate to put one of our own under probation, but it’s for the best.”

“Thank you, Deacon. Alright, you’re dismissed. We’ll be moving back to HQ, but do get some rest. I don’t want to lose any of you to exhaustion.”

 

MacCready was grateful to curl up and sleep, even if it was on a stained, worn mattress under a ramshackle roof in the midst of all the other people at Bunker Hill. He had managed to find a quiet corner a little way away from the majority of the others, and was out like a light in seconds. When he woke, the way the orange light filtered through the cracks in the wooden walls told him it must be late afternoon already- he must have slept for a solid ten hours or so. Groaning, he berated himself. Living at Covenant had afforded him the luxury of long nights and sleeping as much as his body wanted to, rather than catching short bursts of rest that allowed him to stay alert and keep trouble off his back. He rolled over, and it was then that he realised there was another figure in the room, a man in standard-issue Railroad armour with an assault gas mask over his face. He sat with his back to the wall, and the way the mask was turned to him gave him the creepy feeling that he was being watched.

“Do you mind?” He asked the man in a grumpy tone, sitting up and stretching the stiffness from his muscles. The masked man looked up, scanning their surroundings, and then held up a gloved hand and clicked his fingers. He caught MacCready’s attention, and MacCready was about to snap at him for being so rude when he pulled up the leg of the ragged brown combat trousers he wore, revealing metal underneath. MacCready’s breath caught, and he froze. Nate pulled himself to his feet and held out his hand for MacCready, tilting his head in a gesture that said _come with me_. MacCready took it, and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet. He shouldered his rifle and followed Nate out of the encampment. Neither of them got more than a sideways glance as they left. Once they were a few streets down, MacCready stopped.

“Alright. What the hell is going on?” He asked in a sharp voice. Nate stopped too, turning back to him, and then pulled the helmet off, his hair underneath messy and loose.

“Sorry about all this, RJ. I don’t have time to deal with the fallout of the battle just yet. I needed to find you without getting bogged down with interrogations.”

“I need to know, Nate, are you still with us? Because it sure didn’t look like it last night.”

“Yes. I am. I swear. I told you already, I couldn’t do anything about that without blowing my cover.”

“Then what are we doing right now? Why are we darting around behind Des’s back?”

“There’s something I want you to see.” He pulled MacCready into a building and shrugged the pack off of his shoulder. There, he pulled out a black garment and began stripping, changing into the suit of- modified, MacCready could see now that he was up close- Courser armour. He didn’t, however, pull out the mask. When he was done he stuffed the Railroad gear under the countertop of the run down remains of a shop they were in, and straightened up, sheathing his sword- the one MacCready recognised- at his belt. Like this, with the armour, the scars, the sword and the long red hair loose about his face he looked intimidating. Very intimidating. But then his eyes met MacCready’s and crinkled into that fondness, and he was the Nate MacCready knew. “Sorry. Don’t want any Railroad association where we’re going. You should be fine; you don’t wear any of their stuff. Let’s go.”

MacCready’s expression was one of mingled confusion and frustration as he followed Nate through the streets once more. With Nate dressed like that, he felt more conspicuous than ever, but they seemed to be lucky enough to not encounter any familiar faces. MacCready didn’t know where Nate was taking him until he saw the white building before them.

“The C.I.T ruins.” He stated bluntly. “Is this where your friends are hiding after all?”

“Yes and no. They’re underneath the ruins. And they’re not my friends.” That last part was said with acid, Nate’s expression going sour. “You know that.”

MacCready gave an exasperated sigh. “What are we doing here?”

“I told you. There’s something you need to see.” They entered the ruins, and MacCready followed as they made their way to the roof, the building empty but for the pair of them, though MacCready could see the tell-tale signs of what had once been a super mutant dwelling. Nate opened the door to the roof, and MacCready could see the remains of the city spread out before them. It was a sight, bathed in the slightly orange-tinged light. It should have been impressive, but the way it looked hollowed out, dirty and crumbling, it just seemed… sad. MacCready couldn’t help but wonder how it would have looked in Nate’s time. Bright, and loud, and colourful. The wind whipped about them, carrying with it a slight chill. MacCready pulled his duster tighter about him.

 

There was a man on the roof with them. Stood at the edge of the building, looking out over the desolate sight. A man in a long white coat, looking quite unlike anyone MacCready had seen before in the Wasteland.

“Shaun.” Nate called out, trying to keep his hair out of his face as the wind blew it carelessly about. MacCready’s eyes widened, and he glanced between Nate and the figure with shock. The look on Nate’s face was unreadable, the expression of distaste he’d worn earlier gone, and as MacCready watched the guard in his eyes went up, and he held himself with a similar demeanour to what MacCready had seen from him on the Prydwen. His mask, MacCready realised. The figure- Shaun- turned and smiled. Nate approached him, and MacCready followed close on his heels. Once they were closer, MacCready could get a better look at him. Something about his features was softer than Nate’s, the curve of his eyes was narrower and his nose less sharp, but Nate was there in the creases by his eyes and his mouth, and the line of his jaw. And MacCready swore he could see faint wisps of red amongst the grey in Shaun’s hair. So this was Nate’s son. The leader of the Institute.

Shaun’s eyes found Nate first, then MacCready, and those eyes- darker than Nate’s, a deep brown rather than hazel- widened slightly in shock.

“Father. Who is this?” His voice held a distinguished tone, articulate and calm. The voice of a scholar.

“Shaun, this is RJ.” Nate told him, standing beside MacCready.

“Your betrothed…?” Shaun asked in mild curiosity, and then his expression softened in an eerie imitation of the fond look that Nate gave him. “A pleasure to meet you. I am pleased to see my father has found someone out here in this blasted wasteland.” He held out a hand for MacCready to shake, and chuckled warmly when he did. “I suppose before too long I shall be calling you my father-in-law, now isn’t that a strange set of circumstances.”

MacCready blinked, trying to process that. “Um… hi.”

Shaun laughed again, a sound that was far too pleasant to be coming from someone like the leader of the Institute. “I know. This must be quite the shock. I hope you will be good for my father.” There was a tint of sadness in his smile at that comment, but it was gone as quickly as it came, and he turned his attention to Nate.

“You know, I’ve never been outside the Institute. In all my long years, I’ve never had a reason to leave. This…” He waved an arm out across the city. “Is the first I have seen of the outside world. And look at it.” He sighed. “Ruin. Dead ruin. I cannot even begin to imagine the time and resources it would take to rebuild a great civilisation from this… this ash, and dust.”

“We manage.” MacCready told him, not liking his tone.  

“Yes… You manage. You _survive_ , scuttling between wrecked buildings and piles of trash like rats. But we are not rats, are we? We are humans, and we are meant for so much better than this pitiful existence… I am only grateful I was spared such a life.” He took a step towards Nate. “I realise that to you, I was kidnapped from that vault. Stolen. But… looking out upon what my home might have been, I realise that was not so. I was _rescued_ , father. Both of us were.”

“They left me frozen.” Nate said, and his tone was quiet, measured.

“They left you _alive._ ” Shaun responded. “I was, of course, the ideal candidate. A child with uncorrupted DNA. But if something went wrong… If I died… It would be prudent to have a backup. Someone preferably related to the primary subject.”

“You’re okay with this?” MacCready asked incredulously, unable to stop himself. “You’re talking about it like they treated you as nothing more than an experiment. Doesn’t that bother you?”

“When I, as their experiment was raised on good food, with shelter, protection, healthcare and all the luxuries the Institute can provide, and I see that as a free man I would have to scrape for survival in the dust, then no, it does not bother me.” Shaun did not sound offended in any way by the statement. “I only wish they had afforded my father those same protections, even if he was left safe and alive.” His eyes flicked back to Nate. “I will admit, when I had you released from Vault 111, I had no expectations that you’d survive out here, in all this. To not only do so, but to manage to find me… To infiltrate the Institute itself...” Shaun’s smile lit up with pride. “Extraordinary.”

“You… had me released?” Nate asked in that same tone, the unnatural edge to it making MacCready’s skin crawl.

“I did, yes. That was my doing. I was… curious, I suppose, to see what would happen. An experiment, of sorts. I had no idea what kind of man you were, you see. Would the Commonwealth corrupt you, as it had so many others? Would you even survive? And, perhaps most curious to me… would you, after all this time, attempt to find me? I suppose now I have my answer.” He sounded pleased. MacCready couldn’t imagine what Nate must be feeling, the words coming out of Shaun’s mouth set _his_ teeth on edge, and they weren’t even directed at him. He couldn’t imagine going through what Nate had, and this… this _conversation_ could only be making it worse. He understood now, why Nate had come home in such a state after that first trip, why he had been so vehement that he could do the unthinkable. Nate would never be on the side of someone so callous.

“It was my duty, as a father.” He stated, his voice quiet.

“In a world such as this one, there are plenty who abandoned their children, regardless of circumstance.” Shaun told him, and MacCready couldn’t help but think of Little Lamplight. A city full of abandoned kids. “That you would go out of your way like this… it is remarkable. There are greater things to come, after your success at Bunker Hill. The synths have been safely returned, and will be repurposed. Thank you for your work.” Nate grunted, and MacCready got the distinct feeling he wasn’t happy with what he had done. “I hope you weren’t at too much risk.”

“I did what had to be done.”

“And for that I am grateful. The Railroad remains an annoyance, of course, but they will be dealt with as necessary.” MacCready tensed a little, but didn’t betray anything. “And you, well, you’ve passed the test, as they say. You have done well.” He gave Nate a gracious nod. “I hope you will take this as a token of our appreciation.” He handed Nate a bag which headed to his pack, and from the clinking sound it made as it was passed over, MacCready could tell it was full of caps.

“Thank you.”

“It is a well deserved reward. And I hope that from now on you will be playing a more significant role in the future of the Institute. The Directorate is meeting, and you should be there. I will be waiting.” He nodded once more, and turned to MacCready. “You should be proud of your fiancé, RJ. He is going to accomplish great things.” And with that he stepped back, and in a flash of light he was gone, leaving Nate and MacCready alone on the rooftop.

“Do you understand now?” Nate asked in a low tone. MacCready turned to him, and saw that the mask had fallen. Once more, his featured were curled in disgust. “Do you understand why I said what I did, that day?”

MacCready nodded, muted by the revelation. Suddenly the idea that he’d ever doubted Nate’s intentions seemed insane. He was right. That man was no son of Nate’s.

“I’m sorry.”

Nate shook his head. “Don’t be. I play my part well, I know I do. This isn’t the first time I’ve done bad things for a greater cause.” He took a measured breath, looking away for a moment, and then his expression hardened with resolve. “We need to speak to Des.”


	26. Beneath the Armour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They always knew working with so many people was bound to cause problems, somewhere down the line. Perhaps they hadn't quite prepared to deal with them, though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo guess who went on holiday and forgot to take his laptop containing the JfC WIP with him. Apologies for the wait, folks. That and I have officially started to clear out my room to move out to university jesus christ. There are MOVING BOXES in my room. This is terrifying.  
> Anyway. Here's chapter 26 for ya <3

"Nate." MacCready had to trot to keep up with his fiancé as they moved through the Commonwealth. The man was on a mission. It wasn't fair, MacCready thought to himself, that a man with one leg should be able to move so fast so easily. "Nate, slow down." 

"We've got to get to Des." 

"Yes, I know, but she's not going anywhere. Walking a little bit slower isn't going to cause the end of the world or anything." He huffed a little, and then glanced down at Nate's leather-clad backside. "Are you going to change out of that?" 

Nate made a noncommittal sound. "Do I need to?" 

"Walking into the Railroad HQ in Courser armour is going to cause a stir." 

"I'm going to cause a stir anyway. Because you all knew that was me at this point." Nate gave him the side eye, looking vaguely amused. "You did know, didn't you?" 

"Yes, we did. We're not idiots, Nate." 

"That's what I thought. Unless we come across any Brotherhood parties, there's no issue with my being dressed like this. In fact, there's been a significant decrease in people trying to attack me on the road whilst I'm in this. People are scared of Coursers, and it shows." 

MacCready rolled his eyes, kicking an empty cola bottle out of his path and watching it roll off into a bush. "You just like wearing it because you feel dangerous, don't you?" 

"Hey, it's practical. And I've upgraded it so it's more effective than standard issue Courser armour." 

"That's what you were doing back at Covenant, wasn't it? When you wouldn't show anyone what you were working on." 

"That and the mask." 

MacCready sighed in exasperation. "You're ridiculous, you know that?" 

Nate chuckled softly. "It was important I looked the part." 

"You were deliberately trying to scare people." 

"Hey, if you're going to maintain anonymity you might as well have some fun with it." 

"So what was it then?" 

"You mean what was it made from?" MacCready nodded. "Oh, well I used the rebreather from a power armour helmet- one of the older models- built it into a standard issue assault gas mask. Little bit of rubber, adhesive in the linings keeps it sealed shut, painted the whole thing black. Replaced the eyepiece with something a little sleeker, used one-way glass. Shaped it to cover all of this." He gestured at his scars. "All the distinctive bits anyway. It wouldn't be as effective at filtration as the helmet itself, obviously, but it kept the worst of it out. Besides, its main purpose was to keep my face hidden. And it did that quite well." 

MacCready nodded again, and glanced over at him. "And you kept your hair down?" 

"I snapped my hair tie." Nate chuckled. "Gonna have to try and find another one." 

"I kinda like it down." MacCready told him. 

"Mmhmm. You might, but it's a bitch when there's wind. Long hair isn't practical in a fight." 

"Fair point." MacCready went quiet for a moment. "So what's it like? Working with them?" 

"Increasingly concerning. They've got the tech, alright. Luxuries down there like the war never happened. I wonder if the place has been running since prewar times. It's scary, what they're capable of. They've got labs for bioengineering, genetic manipulation, advanced technological systems. Stuff my prewar... employers would have wet themselves over." MacCready didn't miss the careful word choice, but didn't press. "The longer I spend there, the scarier it gets." 

"So it's exactly as bad as everyone thinks, then?" 

"It's not infallible." Nate told him with surety. "If anything, its strength is making it weak. They think they've won already. That no possible force could stand against them with enough power to overcome them. Hubris, RJ. It's a powerful enemy." 

 _The Institute's hamartia_. MacCready thought to himself, taken back to the Greek tragedies he'd read in those big heavy books. It always seemed to be the case. _It's funny_. He mused, _You'd think after all those stories they'd learn._

MacCready had predicted correctly. The minute the pair of them stepped through the sliding wall into HQ, there was a scramble of agents to protective stations, and even a few weapons trained on the pair of them. Nate held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. "Evening, Des." 

"Charmer." Desdemona stepped forwards. "You'll have to forgive the less-than-friendly reception. But I don't think you can blame us, all things considered." Her eyes flicked up and down his body, clad in the armour of Institute soldiers. 

"I expected it. I apologise for everything that happened. I weighed up my options and that seemed the best way forward." 

"You didn't consult us. That was awfully presumptuous of you, especially considering the value of what we lost." Her tone held a sharp edge, and MacCready didn't miss the veiled threat. _You're not in charge here. You don't call the shots._

"Would you have told me to do things differently?" Nate asked, his voice cool, calm and self-assured. Desdemona narrowed her eyes. 

"We could have minimised losses and come up with a solid game plan to save one of our central hubs." 

"A plan which would either alert them to the fact that they have a worm on the inside- and all things considered, I don't think it would take them too long to figure out who- or left me in low favour after the battle, thus making my ascension through their ranks and influence within their plans much harder to attain. Besides, with the establishment of Mercer we have a new central hub far away from CIT and the Institute." Nate illustrated his point in the air, and then gave her a look. "I don't pretend to be a genius, but I do understand tactics in war." 

For a moment, it looked like Desdemona might yell at him, or worse, but then she just took in a sharp breath and hung her head. "Just... don't do it again. Not without consulting us, at the very least."

Reception towards Nate was lukewarm after that, and it seemed to get under his skin in a way MacCready had never really seen before. He knew that Nate had an uncanny knack for getting people to like and trust him, but somehow it never occurred to him that experiencing the opposite might get to him. Trust was a rare commodity in the Wasteland, and near everyone was used to sleeping with one eye open, even among friends, but it seemed to MacCready that this was the first time people Nate had on his side showed anything less than complete faith in him. As it was, it wasn’t long before he announced that he was leaving, and MacCready could practically feel the irritation bleeding off of him. He glanced over at MacCready and tilted his head towards the door, a wordless command to follow. MacCready huffed; he’d been in the middle of discussing plans with Deacon, but apologised and went to his side.

“Expect a visit from me soon, Bullseye.” Deacon grinned. “We’ve got stuff to discuss with ol’ Lieutenant Garvey.”

“I’ll look forward to it.” MacCready saluted at him, and then fell into step at Nate’s heel.

“What’s this about Preston?” Nate asked, his voice carrying that low, sharp edge of displeasure. He clearly didn’t enjoy being out of the loop.

“Deacon wants the Railroad and the Minutemen to team up. They have the resources and the people we need, and we have the training to help organise them.”

“They know I’m the General, right?”

“Yeah, but the plan was discussed while you- while they thought you’d switched sides.”

“They really think that little of me, huh? That I’d turn my back on them just like that?”

“Nate, don't take it personally. I know things might have been different where you come from, but out here people switch sides all the time, to whoever has the best perceived chance of winning. And I think it’s fair to say a lot of people think the Institute ranks pretty high on the leaderboard. That and they know you have a personal connection to their leader.” He shrugged. “It’s… not exactly a stretch.”

“Because you believed it too.” Nate’s tone was bitter.

“No! Well… I was scared, for a bit. When you attacked me.”

“I didn’t hurt you. I’d never hurt you.”

“You threatened to.”

“I had to.” He snapped, glaring at MacCready from the corner of his eye. “X6 was right there. Watching me. He wanted me to kill you. He wanted to kill you himself.”

“Right. Your Courser buddy.”

“RJ, don’t be like that. You know what it’s like for them. You heard what Dove said. It’s not his fault they get in his head and mess with his thoughts until he does exactly what they want. He’s actually half decent if you can get past the Institute hero-worship.”

“Don’t make friends in there, Nate. I don’t want you to be the one standing between us and the big red button, when the time comes.”

“Our primary mission in the Railroad is the liberation of synths, right? If I can earn his trust I can liberate him, like Dove.”

“Does he even want to be liberated?”

“He doesn’t know what he wants. If you heard him talk, you’d hear it. It’s like he’s reciting directly from a propaganda pamphlet. It’s been hammered into him. Drilled into him, literally.” He shivered. “I saw the machine they use to ‘reset’ the synths. It’s horrible.”

That made MacCready pause. “Okay. So when the time comes, we try to get the Coursers out as well as the rest of them? Even if they put up a fight?”

Nate nodded. “Yeah. If we can. I can’t leave them there. They’re people too, and they probably go through the most shit of any of the synths down there.”

“Well… We’ll see what we can do.”

 

Nate changed out of his Courser armour once more on their way back to Covenant, and greeted his friends as they entered the town. They seemed to be used to his coming and going now, since they didn’t question where he’d been. MacCready hoped they’d be able to finally have some quiet time to themselves, since they’d been so busy recently… but no such luck. It took maybe fifteen minutes. Nate got in, put away all his newly acquired armour, weaponry and other stuff in their respective places, and opened his bedside drawer, only to swear loudly. MacCready looked up from where he was counting their caps, one eyebrow raised. Nate drew out a bit of kit that looked a little like a high-tech walkie-talkie, with a blinking red light on it.

“How long has this been going off?”

MacCready shrugged. “What is it?”

“The communicator Danse gave me. The Brotherhood wants us.”

MacCready groaned. “You’re not serious. We just got home!”

“I hope we’re not in trouble.”

“Do we have to go? Now?”

Nate grimaced, and nodded. “Most likely. This being in four different factions thing is certainly keeping us on our toes.” MacCready grunted in agreement and then went to his dresser, going through it. He pulled out his orange jumpsuit and packed it into his bag, and waited as Nate found his.

“What do you think they want from us?”

“I have no idea… Hopefully not too much.”

“They were at Bunker Hill.” MacCready reminded him solemnly. “No one knows who tipped them off. It wasn’t you, was it?”

Nate shook his head with a frown. “No… I haven’t contacted them since Fort Strong. I don’t know how they knew… That’s a little worrying, isn’t it?”

“Yeah… Just a little.”

 

Reluctantly, they left once more, finding a quiet space to change on the way to Boston Airport. At the airport, they caught a vertibird up to the Prydwen, and made their way to the command deck. As always, Maxson was there.

“Reporting for duty, sir.” Nate told, him, standing to attention. MacCready did the same. Maxson turned to face them, and regarded them coolly.

“Well well. If it isn’t Knights Delaney and MacCready. Would one of you care to tell me just where you have been whilst we have been battling our greatest enemies?”

“Looking for my son, sir.” Nate told him without missing a beat. “I’ve had some major progress with it, and I’ve been sidetracked following a new lead.”

“Yes.” Maxson narrowed his eyes at him. “I have it on good authority you’ve found a way into the Institute, Delaney.” Nate and MacCready exchanged a look. How did Maxson know that? What else did he know? “I am disappointed that you did not come to us to assist with this task.”

“Apologies, sir. It was a personal quest.”

“Even so, such an ability is hugely valuable to us. And- assuming this way in makes room only for you, the only explanation I can come up with as to why you would keep this information from us.” He gave Nate a sharp look that told him that wasn’t the only explanation he’d come up with, just the only one he was putting forth. “I have a way for you to redeem yourself.” His eyes alighted on MacCready, who resisted the urge to shrink back against his fierce glare, only made worse by the scar that twisted his face. “You hail from the Capital Wasteland, do you not?”

“I do, sir.”

“Then I will assume you know of Liberty Prime.”

MacCready’s eyes widened. Oh, he’d heard of it alright, though he’d been lucky enough to never come face to face with it himself. “Y-yes. I do.”

“So you know how valuable of a weapon it is. And our goal is currently to get it back up and running.” He turned back to Nate as MacCready suppressed a shiver. The idea of the Brotherhood getting their biggest and most dangerous weapon functional again did not sit well with him. “And in order to do that, we require the services of an old ally, one who we believe currently resides within the Institute. A Doctor Madison Li.” MacCready noticed the flicker in Nate’s expression. So he recognised the name, huh? “I want you to return to the Institute, however you did it, and convince her to return to us.”

“That shouldn’t take too long.” Nate told him. “I am familiar with where to find her already.”

“Good. Then you can have this task complete in the next week?”

“Sooner than that, sir. Providing she cooperates.”

“I presume I have no need to tell you that she should be returned unharmed, correct? We need her able and willing to work for us.”

“Of course.”

“Excellent. If you do this, you will prove yourself an immensely valuable member of our ranks. You may want to speak to Proctor Ingram for further details, since she is the most closely allied person to this project.” Nate gave a sharp nod. “Good. Dismissed.” They both moved away, but before they could leave, Maxson called after them. “Not you, MacCready. Come back here.” MacCready froze for a moment, and looked up at Nate, who shrugged.

“I’ll catch up with you.”

MacCready nodded, and turned back, glancing over his shoulder as he watched Nate disappear. He faced Maxson once more, trying to copy Nate’s attitude in his absence. He wasn’t entirely sure he was pulling it off.

“Proctor Quinlan has requested your presence, Knight.” Maxson told him, and MacCready felt sure he was being judged, as though Maxson couldn’t quite comprehend why the Proctor had asked for him.

“Me specifically?” MacCready asked, unsure of why himself.

“Yes. I believe he has a task for you. And you can assist him whilst Knight Delaney performs his task.”

“Oh. Okay.” He nodded, then added, “Sir.”

“Dismissed.”

 

MacCready was somewhat relieved when Maxson dismissed him. Something about the Elder’s gaze was unnerving. He made his way to Quinlan’s office, knocking at the doorway. Quinlan was sat at his desk with a heavy looking volume open on his lap, Persephone curled up on the keyboard of his terminal. He glanced up over the frame of his glasses at the sound, and smiled when he saw who it was.

“Ah. Knight.” His accent sharply enunciated the T in ‘Knight’.

“Proctor.” MacCready nodded. “I’ve been told you wanted to see me.”

“Indeed. It’s been a while. People were beginning to say you’d fled our services after just one mission. I confess I was concerned, for a while.”

“Concerned about me?” MacCready gave an easy chuckle. “That seems unlikely.”

“Hm. Well, unlikely or not, I am glad to see you again. You see, I wanted your help with something. It is… not a task I have been officially assigned. More of a personal task. One I believe you may be interested in assisting me with.”

MacCready raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“I firmly believe that one of the greatest tragedies of the Great War was the loss of information. Not only information, but also the arts. It was like the burning of the great library of Alexandria all over again.” He sighed heavily, and shook his head before looking up once more. “So I have brought it upon myself to create an… archive, of sorts, of all the prewar literature I can find still preserved. Of course, I am not a field soldier. I do not fight, I do not go out on missions, and many whom I have asked to assist me have declined. They believe they have better things to do with their time.” The expression on Quinlan’s face showed MacCready what he thought of that attitude. “They simply do not understand the merit of literature.”

“You want me to find books for you?” MacCready asked. He was vaguely surprised by this request, though, all things considered, it did seem fitting following Quinlan’s pleased shock surrounding his knowledge of the Greek mythos. He believed he’d found a fellow academic. MacCready wasn’t entirely sure he fit into that description, but it couldn’t be denied he was a sucker for a good book, and the thousands of burnt and unsalvageable books, whether fiction, textbook or otherwise, that he and Nate came across gave him pangs of sadness. He nodded.

“Okay.”

“I’d be willing to pay you caps for-” Quinlan started, and then stopped. “Excuse me?”

“I’ll do it for you.” MacCready told him. “On one condition.”

Quinlan gave him a questioning look.

“I get to borrow from your library whenever I want.”

That made the corner of Quinlan’s mouth quirk upwards. “I believe you’ve got yourself a deal.”

“So… Is that all? For now?”

“For now. Don’t forget to drop by and say hello to Persephone from time to time.”

MacCready chuckled. “I won’t. See ya around, Proctor.”

“Indeed.”

 

MacCready decided that he’d been on his feet for a while. He’d stop for a quick drink before he left on his new task. Hopefully Nate would be in the canteen too, and they could catch up before he left. He ordered himself a beer- nothing too strong; he didn’t want to be feeling fuzzy wandering around the Commonwealth- and found a seat. He took a sip, keeping an eye out for a familiar shock of red hair. He was there for around fifteen minutes before, instead of Nate, a different familiar face slid into the seat opposite.

“Paladin.” MacCready greeted Danse, surprised to see him.

“Knight.” He returned the greeting. “Knight Delaney asked me to pass a message on to you. He says he shouldn’t be more than a day, at most, and… not to get into any trouble, whilst he’s gone.” Danse cleared his throat, looking a little awkward. “…And that he loves you.”

MacCready snorted a little. “Idiot. He knows that of the two of us, he’s more likely to get in trouble than I am.”

“…Yes. From the impressive number of scars he has I can infer that.” He didn’t quite make eye contact, as though the subject made him uncomfortable.

“Is something wrong, Paladin?” MacCready asked bluntly. He couldn’t help it. He was a naturally confrontational person, and the fact that Danse appeared to have a problem with their relationship irked him.

“No, of course not.” He cleared his throat again. “I apologise if it comes off that way.”

MacCready narrowed his eyes for a moment. “…Alright. If you say so. Well, if Nate’s already gone off to do his thing, I should go do mine.” He downed the rest of his beer with ease, and went to stand.

“Proctor Quinlan’s task?” Danse asked, “May I assist you?”

MacCready gave him a shocked look. He hadn’t put Danse down as interested in preserving the Wasteland’s literature. That and he wasn’t sure he wanted to be alone with the other man. He was too formal and stiff and awkward about him and Nate. “Um… I don’t think that’ll be necessary, thanks.”

“Two guns are better than one.” Danse told him, “And I don’t currently have any assigned tasks. I will help with what I can to assist the Brotherhood.”

MacCready internally rolled his eyes, but relented. Though he was capable of going out on his own, Danse was right. Two guns _were_ better than one. “Alright. Sure. You know what the job is, right?”

Danse nodded. “Of course. To collect literature for Quinlan’s archives.”

MacCready nodded. “I figure a school’ll be a good place to start. A high school. There’s one in the south of Boston.” MacCready had walked past it many times with Nate, though they’d never been inside. Danse nodded.

“Let me get into my armour, and we’ll go.”

 

MacCready followed him down to the bunks, and changed into his own travelling clothes. He knew Danse wouldn’t approve, but he didn’t care. The flimsy material of the jumpsuit offered barely any protection, and he hated travelling in the power armour suits. When they rendezvoused, Danse confirmed his suspicions by giving him a look over with an expression of distaste.

“Knight, we are representing the Brotherhood out in the field. You should be in uniform.”

MacCready shrugged. “I’m more comfortable fighting in this. I know where all my bullets are, and it’s just the right combination of protective and flexible for my fighting style. Your jumpsuits are too flimsy and your armour is too bulky and inhibits my agility. That place is empty. No one of note is going to see us.”

Danse huffed. “Uniforms exist for a reason.”

“And when I’m marching rank and file with other soldiers I’ll wear it. For solo missions, whatever’s most practical goes.” He gave Danse a look. “Are you going to command me to change, Paladin?”

The Paladin glared at him for a moment, then let it go. “No, I am not. Let’s be on our way.”

 

Once they were on the ground, and away from the airport, Danse seemed to relax a little. They walked in silence for a little while before he broke it, his voice sounding a bit tinny from behind the rebreather of his helmet.

“I apologise for earlier.” There was a note of something MacCready had never heard in his voice before- nerves?

“Don’t worry about it.” MacCready told him out of courtesy, though he still wasn’t pleased with the sentiment.

“It’s just… I’ve never seen people like you so- so _open_ about it before.”

“People like me?” MacCready asked a little acidly.

“You know… Men, who like… other men.”

“Is there a problem with that?”

“No! No, it’s just that it’s not exactly a common thing in the Brotherhood… It’s not hugely accepted.” MacCready grunted. He supposed that made sense. The Brotherhood were very… traditional, in their values.

“Have you been with the Brotherhood your whole life then? Never seen it elsewhere?”

“Before I came to the Brotherhood, I had one… friend. Just the one. No one else cared about us. So… not really, no.”

“Oh.” MacCready went silent.

“Um… Have you ever faced… trouble, because of it?”

“Besides the occasional bout of name calling, not really, no.” MacCready glanced up at him. Curse that heavy helmet that made his expression unreadable. “What’s with the interest?”

“Nothing. No reason. Move along, soldier.” Danse’s voice carried that ‘I-am-in-charge-and-you-will-not-question-me’ tone. Fortunately, MacCready had never been good at listening to that kind of authority.

“Are you gay, Paladin?” He asked bluntly. Danse’s outward appearance, encased in armour, didn’t change, but MacCready could practically sense the sudden tension bleeding off of him.

“I do not believe it is your right to ask such a personal question of your commanding officer, Knight.” Danse responded tersely after a few moments’ silence. MacCready snorted.

“You have no problem asking me personal questions.” He gave Danse a sideways look. “Is that what this is about? You’re so awkward about me and Nate because it’s the first time you’ve seen people treat it like it’s okay?”

“Knight, please-”

“You know it’s okay, right?” MacCready interrupted him. “Being into guys?” He got the feeling Danse was not the sort to be open with others, so he didn’t give him time to answer, filling in the gaps with his own experiences, instead. “Before Nate, I thought I was straight as a ruler. I was raised in a community of kids who couldn’t care less. To them, all sex was gross, no matter who it was between. But after I left them, I fell in with the- well, I fell in with a bad crowd. And yeah, they were kinda critical about it. A lot of their humour and cruelty attacked masculinity and all that. But I didn’t think it related to me because, well, I was attracted to girls, right? I mean, I had a wife.” Danse’s helmet turned towards him at that.

“You had a wife?”

“Yeah. She passed away. Pack of ferals.” He gave Danse a solemn half-smile. “Amazing girl. I still miss her.”

“But… You have Knight Delaney now?”

“Yeah. Like I said, when I met him I thought I was straight. And the Gunners kinda had it hammered into my head that anything else was a bad thing, though Goodneighbour was way more relaxed about the whole thing- that was where I met him. When I started having thoughts about him, I tried to ignore it. Told myself it was just because I’d gone so long without, and he was the first person to show any real kindness towards me since Lucy. It took a lot of self-searching and about half a bottle of vodka to get me to finally buck up and admit it… along with a push from a close friend.” He laughed a little. “But I’m way better off for it. I guess my point is that it’s not something to be ashamed of, even if the people around you try to tell you otherwise.”

“I am not sure-” Danse’s voice was gruff, and he cleared his throat before trying again. “I am not sure the Elder would be so… accepting.”

“Just because he’s your boss doesn’t mean he gets to dictate who you’re into.”

Danse was silent for a moment, then, “Indeed.”

MacCready gave him a look, and then something clicked in his head. “Oh. _Oh._ ” He had to resist the urge to burst into laughter. “Really? That self-righteous prick?” The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them.

“Careful, Knight. That is your Elder you’re talking about.” Danse told him in an acidic tone of voice. MacCready laughed.

“Sorry, sorry. I’m not the smooth talker Nate is. I tend to say what’s on my mind.”

“Clearly.”

“But really? _Maxson?_ ”

“He’s a remarkable man. Strong, determined, ambitious… He is the very paragon of what the Brotherhood stands for.”

“Alright, alright, don’t jizz your pants.” MacCready rolled his eyes. “I personally wouldn’t choose him, but that’s my opinion. You do you.”

“Not that it matters.” Danse murmured, choosing to gloss over MacCready’s comment. “He would never see me as anything other than his loyal Paladin.”

“Don’t lose any sleep over it. Sometimes these things happen. You just gotta buck up and move on.”

“I suppose you’re right.” Danse told him, and MacCready detected- was that a hint of warmth? Relief?- in his voice. Well, if someone had told him he was going to have a bonding experience with _Danse_ that day, he would have told them they were crazy. But hey, maybe the guy wasn’t the uptight, emotionally-stunted Brotherhood pawn MacCready thought he was… or at the very least, that wasn’t all he was.

 

After that, travelling with Danse felt a lot easier. And as it turned out, they made a good team as they took out the raiders infesting the ruined high school. Once the Paladin’s radar was clear of any and all hostilities, MacCready began poring over the shelves of books in each classroom, looking for anything salvageable. As always, the vast majority were either scorched beyond recognition, or the pages glued shut by mould and mildew. Still, he found a couple of useful ones; a mathematics textbook here, a mystery novel there. He hit the jackpot when he found a heavily bound medical dictionary in what must have been a biology classroom once upon a time, protected by the plastic sleeve it was wrapped in. Judging by the worn, slightly frayed in places fabric binding and the style of the embossed front cover, it had probably been fairly outdated even at the time of the war, but even so it would be valuable. MacCready carefully slid it out of the plastic, using a pocket knife to cut away the places where the sleeve had melted to the cover, and let it fall open. The pages were yellowed with age, the text in tiny black writing that was hard to make out in the low light, but here and there were incredibly detailed drawings of various anatomical diagrams, and it looked to be at least a thousand pages long. MacCready wrapped it in the remains of a lab coat he found, and tucked it carefully into his pack. Quinlan would be immensely happy with that, he was sure. They scoured the rest of the school, and MacCready picked up a couple more prizes, including a worn script of _Antigone_ , and a school-appropriate edition of _Wuthering Heights,_ the front of the book full of background notes on the author and the setting. Satisfied with his findings, he called to Danse that he was ready to go, and together they headed back to Boston Airport with their findings.

 

Somewhere in the back of his mind, MacCready knew this wasn’t going to end well. The Brotherhood were the enemy, after all, and they were only their as undercover agents, feeding information back to the Railroad. One way or another, things were going to come to blows. But he found himself, much to his surprise, trying to push that thought out of his head, replacing it with the hope that Quinlan was pleased with his findings, and making light conversation with a much more personable Danse.

 

It was a dangerous game, certainly. And being caught in the centre wasn’t going to be kind to anyone in the end. He could only ignore that for so long.


	27. Reawakened Nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The road goes ever on and on... And just how far can you go before you fall?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is 2:40am, I am drunk, I just got back from the club, and I have a 9am lecture. Yay halloween!  
> Uh... Also, writer's block and university happened. This isn't on hiatus, just... expect slow updates bc uni is full on. I apologise for the wait x

"This is truly remarkable." Quinlan flipped through the medical dictionary eagerly, tracing his fingers oh-so-lightly over the drawings. MacCready stood across from his desk with a smirk of pride. The small stack of books he'd retrieved sat on the desk in front of him, and Persephone nosed them curiously before hopping off the desk to curl around MacCready's ankles. He bent down to put her as Quinlan closed it and ran a reverent touch over its cover.

"Thank you. Sincerely. Books like this are wasted, rotting down there in the Commonwealth. I shall make sure it is documented and properly stored."

MacCready grinned. "I did good, huh?"

Quinlan chuckled. "Yes. You did do... well. You've set my expectations high, Knight. I shall be looking forward to what other findings you will bring to me."

 

After parting ways, MacCready returned to the common area to await Nate's return. He found Danse, and pulled up a stool at the bar next to him. "Quinlan liked the books."

"You said he might. I confess I'm not much of a reader myself."

MacCready shrugged. "Not many people are. There are much more pressing things to worry about these days. I was lucky to have a pretty safe childhood, comparatively, and the time to read. Same with these days. You've been to Covenant, right?"

"Yes. Knight Delaney has taken me there before. It does look like a much nicer place to live than the vast majority of the ramshackle pseudo-towns out there in the Commonwealth."

MacCready couldn't help but snicker a little at his wording. "You always talk like that?"

"Like what?"

"I don't know. Like a robot who swallowed a dictionary."

"I do not talk like a robot."

"You kinda do." MacCready laughed. "Like ninety percent of what you say sounds like a Brotherhood propaganda manual." His words rang in his head, and he remembered that Nate had said something very similar about the Courser, X6, and the brainwashing he went through. That made the comment much less funny, all of a sudden.

"Nothing wrong with having pride in one's cause." Danse sat up a little straighter, looking haughty. "You really have an issue with authority, don't you?"

"I _was_ the authority when I was a kid." MacCready told him. "I guess I just got used to it."

"You... were the authority... as a child?"

MacCready nodded. "Place called Little Lamplight." He pulled out a box of cigarettes and a lighter from his pocket, tapped one out and lit it. He took a drag, and pulled an ash tray over. "Entirely populated by and run by kids under sixteen. My home, until they kicked me out for being too old. I was mayor of the town for nearly four years."

"That sounds... remarkable." Danse sounded almost impressed. “And this… town, it thrived? Without adult supervision?”

MacCready shrugged. “Yeah. In this day and age, it doesn’t take long to learn the skills you need to survive. We did things our own way, and it worked.”

“But how did you- I mean, what was to stop the population of the town dropping until, well, until it was just one teen telling the other to go away?”

“The place was well known to the adult towns. Every time someone had a kid they didn’t want, they just dropped it off at our gates and hey, we had a new citizen. Sometimes it wasn’t just abandoned babies. It was orphans, or abused kids, escaped slave kids, whatever. As long as you were under sixteen, you had a place there.”

“That’s horrible…” Danse frowned at his glass. “Not, I mean, that you had a town there. That’s actually very admirable, that you gave homes to all those poor children. I mean it’s horrible that there were so many who needed your hospitality in the first place.”

“That’s the Wasteland for you, buddy.” MacCready tapped ash into the ashtray, and sighed. “It’s a sh- a crappy place, filled with crappy people.”

Danse nodded. “I know. And it’s why I’ve pledged myself so deeply to our cause. Because I’ve seen the suffering these people inflict upon themselves and each other… it’s our solemn duty to secure the future of mankind, to stop that kind of behaviour. It’s not easy, and it will take some time, but all we can do is devote our lives to it so our children and our children’s children will have a better world to live in than we did.”

“It’s a noble goal.” MacCready mused, though he let the smoke drown out his further thoughts of _but you’re going about it all wrong._

 

He didn’t see Nate for the rest of the day, though he waited faithfully. After staying up until his mind fogged with tiredness and the steel walkways of the Prydwen were empty of other soldiers, he retired to his bunk. Unlike at Covenant, he fell into bed fully clothed and pulled his jacket tighter about him. Light snores came from the other occupants around him, and he found himself missing Nate’s. He held his hand up in front of his face, looking at the slim gold band on his finger. He hoped they would get some time to themselves soon. It felt like things were happening at a rate he couldn’t keep up with much longer, and he needed to take a day or two off from this frantic running between factions and quests. It was physically and mentally exhausting to keep track of. He hoped that somewhere, most likely below the CIT ruins, Nate was sleeping well in a marginally comfortable bed, and not doing anything stupid.

 

MacCready had time for another quick trip out the following morning, and brought a few more novels back for Quinlan before he saw Nate again. Once again, Nate came back looking cleaner and more well-rested than he normally did, giving MacCready faith that he hadn’t, in fact, been mistreating himself.

“Nate!” MacCready ran up to him on the metal walkway, and hugged him tightly. Nate chuckled warmly, returning the hug.

“Anyone’d think I’ve been away for way longer than one day.”

“Shut up, I haven’t had a hug in ages, okay?” MacCready gave Nate a light jab to the ribs, making him yelp and swat his hand away.

“Alright, alright. I’ve gotta report back to Maxson, and then we’re going down below, okay?”

“Down below? Anywhere in particular, or…?”

“Yeah. I gotta deliver something to a friend. Keep a promise I made.” His tone carried a note of displeasure, and he gave MacCready a sideways look that said _I’ll give you the details later._ MacCready nodded.

“Okay.”

 

Speaking with Maxson went about as expected. He commended Nate on a job well done after being told Dr Li would be packing up and heading in their direction as soon as possible, and rewarded him with a flashy new bit of tech to put on his power armour. A little while later, they had feet on solid ground and a promise to come back after a few days to see how work on Liberty Prime was coming along. Nate waited until there was slim chance of running into any Brotherhood soldiers, then went through his pack. He drew out a nasty looking capped syringe full of a translucent liquid.

“Uh… Nate? What is that?”

“The cure.”

“…For what?”

“The FEV virus. Virgil’s cure.”

MacCready blinked. “The super mutant?”

Nate nodded. “This should reverse it.”

“You’re going to… cure super mutant… ism?”

“Not quite.” Nate flicked the syringe and watched the bubbles settle. “It’s only one dose, and it only cures the induced version the Institute cooked up. The kind that you find just hanging about aren’t an induced mutation.”

“Oh… So earlier, when you talked about making a delivery…”

“I meant we’re going back to the Glowing Sea.” Nate nodded, looking displeased. MacCready wasn’t hugely fond of the idea either.

“Great.” He sighed. “Guess we’d better stop off at home to get our suits.”

“Yup.” Nate slipped the syringe back into his pack and started down the path. MacCready followed, lamenting the bruised feel on the bottoms of his feet telling him he’d been on them for too long.

 

“Do you think we’ll get a rest after this?” MacCready asked as he walked at Nate’s side. “I mean… we’ve been running from place to place for ages. It’s kind of exhausting.”

Nate sighed. “Honestly? No. I’ve got a list as long as my arm of stuff to do. You’re welcome to take a break if you want, but a lot of these things have time limits on them, or at the very least if I spend too much time doing other stuff, people are going to get suspicious.”

“Don’t push yourself too hard, Nate. This isn’t good for you.”

Nate gave him a sideways look. “RJ, nothing has been good for me since I stepped out of that Vault. I’ve gotten used to a life of being constantly on the go. And it’s not like I’m skipping on sleep or meals.”

MacCready sighed. Nate could be a stubborn git when he wanted to be. He got the feeling that no matter how he protested his point, he just wouldn’t listen. “Well… I’m not taking a holiday if you won’t. I don’t trust you off on your own anyway.”

Nate gave him a fondly amused smile, and together they made their way back home.

 

It was the same song and dance as the last time they’d done this. Pack a load of radaway and rad-x, extra food, water and medical supplies, clean weapons and climb into their lead-lined suits. MacCready calibrated the HUD in his helmet, and together they left, freshly supplied.

They decided upon the same plan they’d used last time, to head for the pyramid and spend the night there. The first leg of the journey went without a hitch, the few enemies they did encounter going down without too much of a fight. They made it to the pyramid about an hour and a half after sundown, and as the door creaked shut, sealing all the radiation, noise and light outside, MacCready turned on the headlamps of his suit and climbed out, immediately sliding down the wall and sighing in relief as he gave his abused feet a rest. Nate joined him, breaking open a can of purified water and taking a gulp before passing it to MacCready.

“There. We can rest for now. Keep going when it gets light.”

“Not that we can tell when that is in here.” MacCready murmured, taking a long draught of water. It tasted sweet on his dry tongue. Nate hummed his assent, then pulled his sleeping bag from his pack and laid it out. MacCready retrieved his own from the back of his suit, and put it next to Nate’s. They ate just enough to tide them over, and then curled up together, exhausted from their trip. MacCready was out like a light in minutes, and Nate followed shortly after.

 

It was dark when MacCready woke up. Of course it was; it was always dark in here. He lay still and quiet with his eyes shut, getting the feeling he hadn’t slept a full night. As he lay there, he thought he heard something. A kind of wet shuffling a little way off. He tensed, a prickle of fear going up his spine. It stopped for a moment, then started up again, and he swallowed, his mouth dry.

“ _Nate_.” He whispered, nudging the sleeping bag next to him. “Nate, _wake up_.”

Nate groaned, and MacCready winced, his breath hitching. He listened intently. The shuffling had stopped again. He couldn’t see a thing, and suddenly he felt very, very exposed. “Please Nate.” His whisper was strained, almost a whimper.

“What’s up? Is it morning?” Nate murmured.

“ _There’s something in here_.”

Nate fell silent at that. There was a rustling, and then a dim green light emitted from inside his sleeping bag. He reached for his sword, the metal making a light scraping sound against the concrete floor that set MacCready’s teeth on edge, and then he kicked the sleeping bag off and stood up. MacCready followed suit, grabbing his rifle and searching the dimly lit area around them. He could just about make out the railing a little way off, where the ground dropped away deep into the facility.

“What was it?” Nate asked in a low, measured voice.

“I-I don’t know. I heard a sound. It sounded… wet.”

Nate listened. Sure enough, there it was again, quiet but seeming too loud in the oppressive silence of the facility. Nate held up his blade, and began walking in the direction of the sound. MacCready followed, holding up his rifle in shaking hands. He had a horrible feeling he knew what was making those sounds. Something very similar still haunted his nightmares. He just hoped there weren’t too many to handle. A shaking hand went to his head, only to remember he wasn’t wearing his hat. It, and the pair of bullets tucked into the brim, were with his pack, back in the dark. He took a slow breath in an attempt to calm himself, and stayed close to Nate as they headed down the slope, deeper into the pyramid.

They came to a door in the wall with a glowing red button next to it. It looked to be made of steel, and very solid. Nate crept up to it and held the light up to the window, looking in.

“Something’s moving…” He murmured. “I can’t quite make it out, but…” He squinted, and pressed his face closer. There was a moment of silence, just the sound of Nate’s breathing, and then a loud _thunk_ , and Nate jumped back, swearing. MacCready nearly dropped his gun fumbling it, and they both stood stock still and on guard as the sound of warped growls and the screeching of fingernails on glass came from the door. Nate held up his wrist again, and by the light of the pipboy they could see decayed flesh and milky eyes staring at them, features twisted unnaturally into a snarl. Its teeth were bloody. “Ferals.” Nate breathed. “But… I thought I cleaned this place out…?”

“They must have gotten back in between the last time we were here and now.” MacCready murmured.

“How? The place is sealed tight. It has to be, or else the radiation would be getting in.”

“Maybe you missed some. This is a big place.”

Nate tapped the screen of his pipboy. “This shows me when the area’s clear.”

“I can’t sleep with them here.” MacCready told him. “And if we’re going to come back here on our way back we should clear them out now so they don’t spread.”

Nate nodded. “Okay. Stand back.” He waited until MacCready was a safe distance away, then took a breath, readying his sword. He pressed the button beside the door and waited just a moment as it hissed open. As soon as the obstacle was out of the way, the feral lunged at him, emitting a horrible throaty growl. Nate hacked at it until it dropped. It writhed at his feet for a few moments, then fell still. Another was hot on its tail, and another, and another. MacCready readied his gun and shot one in the head, spraying rotten black blood over the wall behind it. He moved forward as Nate advanced into the room, covering him. But as Nate went further in, MacCready had to follow, and the room behind the door was too small to effectively use his rifle. There was too much risk that he might hit Nate. He switched to the pistol tucked into his belt, just in time as one dashed for him, its movement jerky. He pressed the gun barrel to its chest, blowing a hole where its heart should be. It hissed and collapsed. MacCready looked up to see where Nate was, and saw that at the other end of the room was another open door that looked to lead to a lower level, and more and more ferals seemed to be coming through. Nate was in the main body of the room, on a level below him. He seemed to be holding his own well enough, though he had acquired a scratch on his cheek. MacCready aimed at the ferals coming through the other door, firing off several shots. The ferals tripped over each other, falling to the bullets. He stuck his tongue out, focusing on his aim, reloading when his ammo ran out. As wrapped up as he was, he jumped out of his skin when a heavy weight collided with his side, sending his shot stray and him sprawling to the floor. He smacked his head against the edge of a stair, making him see stars for a moment. There was a cold, damp weight on top of him, and he looked up into the milky, dead eyes of a feral as it gnashed gore-stained teeth at him. He felt a bolt of panic in his chest, and pushed against it, throwing it off him and backing up against the wall. But it wasn’t alone, and he found himself wrestling with another, trying to keep mindlessly clawing hands away from his front. He kicked at it, and then at the other as it crawled back over to him.

“Nate!” He screamed, “Nate, _help_!” He thrashed, but there was a third, and his arms trembled from holding back their weight. One grabbed at his leg and bit down on his thigh, making him shriek. The fabric of his clothes refused to yield, but the force of the bite was more than enough to hurt, and he’d likely be bleeding underneath.

 _This is how Lucy died,_ his mind told him, and he choked back a sob, panic clouding rational thought. Something scratched at his neck, grabbing at the scarf he wore and tearing it away. He sank further to the floor, curling in on himself in an attempt to protect his vital organs. He could feel the things tearing at him, felt another bite to his upper arm, and he dissolved into a full panic attack. He couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, and when he felt a spray of wetness across him and felt a body land on him stinking of decay, he cried out in terror.

Later, he’d look back and say he must have been there for a good ten minutes or so, but in the moment he had no concept of anything but the desire for it to stop. He felt hands tugging at him, arms wrap around him, and he lashed out against them. Still, they held tight, and he heard Nate’s voice, low and calming.

“Hey. Hey, it’s okay. They’re dead. You’re safe.”

MacCready gasped, fighting for air, and he slowly but surely came back, his face wet with tears and his breaths coming through with nasty rasps in his chest. He wiped at his face, and curled into Nate’s chest.

“Deep breaths. Come on, breathe for me.”

MacCready nodded, and tried his best to steady his breathing. Eventually, he got it back under control, sniffing a little but otherwise okay.

“She- She died like that, Nate…” He murmured, visibly shaking. Nate was silent, but the way he held MacCready, the way he kissed his hair said he knew exactly what MacCready was talking about. They were quiet for a few long minutes, then MacCready asked in a quiet voice, “Do we know where they came from? How they got in?”

“There was a body. In a Brotherhood uniform, I think. They must have come here, and accidentally let the ferals in.”

“You think?”

Nate bit his lip. “You don’t want to know. Come on, let’s get out of here. Neither or us are going to get any more sleep tonight.” He stood up, and pulled MacCready up with him. MacCready looked out over the room, at the corpses of feral ghouls strewn over the floor. Nate tugged on his hand, and together they made their way back to their makeshift camp. Nate adjusted his prosthetic and climbed into his armour after packing up his things, and MacCready followed suit. He was too buzzed from adrenaline to be tired, though he was still trembling. He clutched his rifle tightly as Nate opened the massive steel door. It was still dark out, but the first lights of dawn could be seen through the greenish-brown haze that lay over the land. Nate adjusted something in his helmet, then started off across the sun- and radiation-baked plains.

 

MacCready was quiet as they walked, shaken to the core. The bites and scratches on his body stung with sweat as he walked, and he swore he could still feel them pawing at him. All he could think about was Lucy, and how terrified she must have been in her last moments. His eyes were blank, his movements mechanical. The few times Nate attempted to talk, he was met with one-word replies or grunts of acknowledgement. Even when they arrived at Virgil’s cave, MacCready barely reacted to the super mutant stench, or the harsh welcome given to them by the doctor-turned-mutant.

“You brought it?” He asked in his rough, too-deep voice.

“Yep. Safe and sound.” Nate drew out the syringe wrapped in rags from his pack, unwrapped it and handed it over. It looked far too delicate in Virgil’s clumsy hand, and he adjusted his glasses, looking over it. “Will it work?” Nate asked as Virgil took it over to his desk, squeezing a droplet of the liquid onto a glass slide and looking at it under a microscope- the equipment looking absurdly small to him.

“It… appears undamaged. If we did the math correctly…” He lifted his forearm, and slid the needle in at the elbow with a soft grunt of discomfort. He pushed the plunger in all the way, depressing the liquid into his veins, then set the empty syringe aside. “All we can do now is wait.” He regarded Nate with his usual stony expression. “You kept your end of the bargain. I am grateful for that. Thank you.” He told Nate in a brusque tone.

“How do we know if it worked?”

“It will take a while to take effect. It will be slow, and likely uncomfortable, but anything is better than this.”  
“Well… Good luck with that, then. I suppose we shall be on our way.”

Virgil grunted in response, and turned back to his desk. Nate’s helmet turned towards MacCready, and MacCready got the distinct feeling he knew exactly the expression on Nate’s face.

“Bye.” Nate offered, to no response, then headed out, MacCready following shortly behind.

 

“Polite fella, isn’t he?” Nate murmured once they were out of Virgil’s cave. MacCready hummed vaguely in response. “You ok, RJ? You’ve been very quiet since last night.”

MacCready sighed. “I can’t stop seeing it in my head. Imagining how scared she must have been… how horrible it was.” He shuddered, screwing his eyes shut as though that would block out the mental image. Nate was silent as he talked, and MacCready wished he could see his face. “I’d just gotten over that fear, Nate. I was getting better. I could fight them without freaking out. But now… I feel like I’ve taken ten steps backwards. I don’t ever want to see another one of those things again.”

“I don’t think that can be helped.” Nate murmured. “I wish it could, but… there’s just too many of them. They’re everywhere.”

“I know.” MacCready’s voice was low, uneven. “I don’t want to be useless to you, Nate, but I I’ll be even more of a damned liability if I shut down every time they’re nearby.”

“You’re not a liability, RJ.” Nate’s voice was sure. “You’ve saved my ass so many times, just as I’ve saved yours. If I have to cover you sometimes, I’m fine with that. And there’s plenty of fights that don’t involve ferals. You’ll be alright.” MacCready could hear his smile in his voice, that soft affection. “We all have our damage.”

“Mm.” MacCready responded, and said nothing more. The rest of what he had to say wasn’t anything Nate’d want to hear, anyway.

 

They made good time out of the Glowing Sea, but as they made their way back through the Commonwealth proper, Nate began to lag a little bit. When they reached a relatively intact old house on the edge of some sort of park, he pulled MacCready over and went inside.

“Why are we stopping?” MacCready asked. Though he was grateful for the rest, he wanted to make it back home as soon as possible. Nate got out of his armour, and slumped onto an only slightly mouldy armchair, sighing in relief.

“Leg’s giving me grief.” He murmured. Sitting for a moment with his eyes shut, he then reluctantly pushed himself back up again, and unbuckled his belt, kicking off his shoes.

“Uh, Nate?” MacCready stepped out of his own armour, taking deep breaths of sour but fresh air. “Not sure this is the best place to strip.”

Nate shrugged, and dropped his trousers, taking them off and draping them over the chair. Perching on its arm, he took his weight off the metal leg and began fiddling with the leather straps that bound it to the stump of his thigh. When he slipped it off, MacCready winced. The skin underneath was red raw and blistered in places, the scars showing up pale on the irritated skin.

“You’ve been walking on that?” He asked semi-incredulously.

“Haven’t had much of a choice.” Nate told him, pulling the pack over to the chair and going through it. He found a bottle of antiseptic and a syringe of med-X. Jabbing the syringe unceremoniously into his thigh and sighing contentedly as the medicine took effect, he pulled out a semi-clean dishcloth taken from some place or another, doused it in antiseptic and gently wiped it over the inflamed skin.

“You need to rest, Nate.” MacCready insisted. “All this constant walking about from place to place isn’t good for you.”

“You know I can’t rest. Too much going on. Stakes are too high.”

MacCready huffed. “You keep saying that. It won’t kill you to put your legs up for a couple of days and let that heal. Walking around on blisters isn’t any fun.”

Nate went quiet, and MacCready got the distinct feeling he didn’t have any intention of following MacCready’s advice. “Look, I won’t lecture you on self destructive tendencies because we’ve done that song and dance already. All I’m saying is… you know. You’ve been on the move nonstop for weeks now. I haven’t spent any quality time with you in ages.”

“I know, RJ. It sucks, it really does, but… something big is coming, and I can’t slack off now. We’re so close to ending it all, I can feel it.”

“Ending what? The Institute?”

“All of it. The synth conflict, the faction wars… we can really start rebuilding the Commonwealth. It’s within reach.”

“You’re going to work yourself to death.” MacCready told him, uncharacteristically sombre. “I read an expression somewhere; ‘burning the candle at both ends’. That’s what you’re doing, Nate.”

Nate looked up at him, hazel eyes almost steely with the strength of his resolve. “We’re going to end this, and we’re going to go find your boy, RJ. I won’t let any more of his childhood slip by parentless.”

MacCready was at a loss for a response to that. His heart twinged in his chest and mutely he nodded, relenting. “Okay, Nate. Okay. Just… let me take off some of the weight, if I can.”

Nate smiled, his expression softening. “Thank you. I promise I’ll tell you what you can do to help.” With that, he returned to the pack, until he found the spare shirt he’d brought in case the one he was wearing got wrecked. He drew his combat knife and sliced it apart, wrapping a scrap of it around the stump of his leg and tying it into place. When he put the prosthetic back on, the straps lay over the fabric, reducing chafing. Once it was secure, he pulled his trousers back on and tested his weight on both feet. MacCready heard the metal click a few times as it adjusted, then he picked up his pack, climbing back into his armour. It sealed shut with a hiss, and MacCready did the same.

“Right. Onwards?”

“Onwards.” MacCready agreed with a nod.

 

Now that Nate had mentioned him, MacCready found himself juggling thoughts of not only his wife, but his son. It was true that he worried Nate would work himself to the bone, to his own detriment, but… it was also true that he had a son waiting for him, relying on him, and in the wake of all that had happened, MacCready had lost the constant push to keep moving that had driven him before he had Nate to worry about. How could he have been so selfish? He felt horrified with himself, that he would let that slip away. He understood Nate’s push. He understood why he wouldn’t give himself even a short break when the finish line was in sight. He supposed all he could do was help as much as physically possible to achieve their goals as soon as they could. The next weeks- days, even- would be long and hard as they juggled people and politics and battles, but they had to succeed. For Duncan. For the hopes of their future family.

 

They made their way back to Covenant the following morning, and that night, MacCready woke up in a cold sweat, his skin crawling with phantom ghouls’ hands grabbing, tearing at him. He had woken Nate, and lay in his arms, against his chest for a while. Nate comforted him, and eventually, he managed to fall back to sleep.

 

Their lives were dark. There was no denying that. There was a cloud on the horizon, and yet… if they could just make it a little longer, they’d be home free. Free to just… live. And oh, how MacCready wanted that.


	28. Making Ties, Breaking Ties

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Making friends is easy. Keeping them? Not so much. Then again, not everything was going to go smoothly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter of the year! Happy New Year everyone, and don't go too hard on the drink. I wish you all the best 2018, and will talk to you again in the new year!

Within the week, Nate had taken the title of Director within the Institute, Liberty Prime was only one or two components away from completion, and the Railroad was as tetchy around Nate as ever. By association, MacCready didn’t know that their plans were underway until the pair of them returned home to Covenant only to find Dove and Deacon there. Nate was instantly surly, retreating to their room and leaving MacCready to deal with them. MacCready sighed, thinking Nate was being unreasonable, an opinion he seemed to share with Deacon if the agent’s raised eyebrow was anything to go by.

“Is he mad at us?” Dove asked in his unerringly inflectionless tone.

“He’s… being difficult.” MacCready shifted on his feet, hands in his pockets. “I don’t think he likes that no one told him you’d be here.”

“In all fairness, he hasn’t exactly spent a lot of time down at HQ recently. What did he want, a carrier pigeon?” Deacon pointed out, though he seemed more amused than annoyed. “Besides, we’re here to talk to him. And Garvey, but we’ve already had a chat with him and he pointed us in Charmer’s direction. So if you could get your boyfriend out of his sulk that would be much obliged.”

MacCready huffed, but tightened his grip on his rifle strap and nodded. This would be far from the first time he talked down a childish feud. He went over to their house and rapped smartly on the door. “Nate? It’s me. I’m coming in.” He got no response, so he followed through and went in without further warning. Nate was on the bed, book open, petulantly ignoring MacCready’s entrance. “Nate, will you put that down?” He looked up, one eyebrow raised.

“What?”

“You know what. Stop being a dumbass.”

“I’m not.” Nate told him, but pointedly refused to close the book.

“Yes you are. You’re mad that they’re not playing favourites for you any more and you’re sulking rather than actually doing your job.”

“They’ve made it clear they don’t trust me any more. I don’t see why they’d want my input on anything.”

“They have a perfectly valid reason for being edgy about you and you know it. Heck, you deliberately played it up. If you don’t buck up and do what you’re meant to do, then it’s no wonder they won’t trust you. No one wants to put their faith in a leader who’s going to act like a child when he doesn’t get what he wants.”

Nate glared at him for a moment, then snapped the book shut and put it on his bedside table. Sighing heavily, he stood up and pulled his boots back on. “Alright. Fine. Let’s talk this out. Where’s Preston?”

“Uh… I don’t know. I’ll go find him, you talk to Deacon and Dove.”

“We’ll talk in the bar.” Nate told him, heading outside. “Gentlemen!” He approached them with arms out and a grin on his face, making MacCready roll his eyes. He was really incapable of doing things by halves, huh?

“Nice of you to show your face.” Deacon snarked languidly, crossing his arms. Dove watched with seeming impassiveness.

“Apologies. We have business to attend to. Would you like a drink?” He led them into the bar, apologising for having to clear out Nick and Hancock as he did so. The two old timers ribbed him but let him be, moving off to continue their conversation elsewhere. MacCready stuck his head through the door of the bunkhouse, unlucky in finding Preston, but catching Cait instead.

“Hey, have you seen Preston about?”

“Out back choppin’ firewood.” Cait told him, gesturing off vaguely. “Yer weird ass friends out there was askin’ after him earlier. Who are those blokes anyway? I’ve seen the one in sunglasses about before but his friend is new. Guy’s more of a robot than Nick. It’s creepy.”

“Yeah. He is. But he’s cool, once you get past the weird. Thanks.” MacCready nodded, and left before Cait could ask any more questions. He followed her directions, and sure enough found Preston a little way outside Covenant, his coat and hat on a nearby tree stump as he chopped wood for the firepit.

“What, not going to lose the shirt as well?” MacCready called out with a laugh. Preston paused and glanced up, wiping the sweat from his brow.

“It’s not exactly warm out.” He pointed out. “I could do with something between me and the wind.”

“Riiight. Anyway, Nate’s looking for you. Apparently there’s important stuff to talk about.”

Propping his axe against the stump, he stood up straight. “Is this about the guys who showed up earlier? The fella in the sunglasses and his friend?” MacCready nodded. “They said they wanted to talk about some sort of deal with the Minutemen. I told them that’s the General’s decision.”

“Yeah, well, Nate wants you there too. He trusts your judgement, you know?”

Preston smiled a little to himself. “Okay. Yeah, I’ll be there.”

“They’re in the bar.” MacCready tilted his head towards Covenant. “You coming with?”

“If you help me get this in then sure.”

The pair of them took a bundle of wood and Preston shouldered his axe after he pulled his coat and hat back on. Dropping the haul off by the stove, MacCready led Preston to the bar and went in. Inside, Nate had shared out some of his stock of beer, and they were sat around talking in low voices. When MacCready and Preston entered, Nate looked up with a smile and cracked open another two bottles.

“Ah, we’ve been waiting for you! Here, come and join in.”

MacCready sat next to Dove, and Preston next to him. They took their drinks and sipped in silence for a moment. It seemed no one knew how to begin.

“Right. I think we should start with introductions, don’t you?” Nate glanced at Deacon, who nodded, giving him permission. “Preston, this is Deacon, and Dove. They’re Railroad.”

Preston almost choked on his beer, and blinked in awe. “Railroad? As in… _the_ Railroad?”

Deacon chuckled. “The one and only, baby. We need your help.”

“You need _our_ \- I mean, I’m honoured, sir. Many of our settlers are synths, and we owe a great debt your efforts in keeping us- them- safe.”

“Deacon’s fine, Garvey. I’m glad to hear that you think so highly of us. It makes this a little easier for me.”

“Makes what easier?”

“They want to team up.” Nate interjected.

“Charmer’s right.” Preston gave Nate a look as Deacon said that, mouthing _Charmer?_ Nate just shrugged. “I’m sure you heard about the kerfuffle at Bunker Hill, yeah?”

Preston nodded.

“Yeah. That was one of our main bases of operations, and now it’s been compromised. So what we offer is a deal- We will offer you as much protection as we can afford, in return for permission to use your settlements as safehouses for the synths escaping the Institute. We realise this is a risky gambit for you, since the last thing you want is Institute Coursers on your tail, but we have manpower, weaponry and technology we can offer in return, and if all goes as planned, Coursers won’t be a problem much longer.”

Preston took a moment to digest that. “You’re going to attack the Institute, aren’t you?”

Deacon nodded. “Yeah. We are. And we need the assurance that the people we get out of there are gonna have somewhere to go. So do we have your support?”

“This is a good move, Pres.” Nate told him. “I’ve been working with these people for some time now, and they’re very good at what they do. Between us, we stand a real chance.”

Preston was quiet a moment longer, then nodded. “If the General trusts you, then so do I. I believe in your cause, and any help we can get is welcome. I’ll send word out to each settlement to keep an eye out for newcomers. Do you want a map of where all our settlements are?”

Deacon shook his head, and held up a hand. “No need, Garvey. What kind of secret organisation would we be if we didn’t know these things already?” He grinned. Preston laughed.

“Of course. Well, it’s good to know there are people out there doing good.”

 

The meeting continued for a while after that, with discussions of tactics, trade routes, and precautions for the oncoming confrontation. And after that, it morphed into casual conversation over a drink. After some time, Dove and Deacon excused themselves to head back to HQ, with the promise that they’d be in contact. Nate and MacCready got the evening off, and everything seemed to be going smoothly. The following day, though, it was back on the road with another call to action from the Brotherhood. Before lunchtime, they found themselves stood before Elder Maxson once more, awaiting orders.

The Elder seemed tense when they approached, pacing back and forth across the command deck. MacCready exchanged a look with Nate. When Maxson caught sight of them, he fixed Nate with a steely gaze.

“Is there anything you wish to tell me, Knight?”

For a moment, MacCready’s gut felt heavy. What did he know? Had he found out about the Railroad? Nate’s betrayal? His own? Nate straightened up beside him, drawing himself to his full height.

“Am I being accused of something, Elder?”

“That remains to be seen.” Nate raised an eyebrow, but didn’t comment, letting him continue. “Proctor Quinlan completed the decryption of the data you retrieved from the Institute. A portion of his findings included a list of synths that went missing or escaped from their underground facility. After careful analysis of the information, we’ve discovered something unprecedented.” He paused before saying the next part, his eyes downcast and a harsh frown on his face, like it pained him to say it. “Paladin Danse is a perfect match for one of the synths on the list.”

MacCready’s eyes widened, and he looked at Nate. Had he already known? Beside him, Nate’s body language was tense, and he was frowning as though trying to figure out the truth of his statement. He hadn’t, then. That was… a relief?

“Is the Proctor absolutely certain of this?” Nate asked in a quiet tone, a layer of ice in his voice that MacCready was afraid to hear.

“Proctor Quinlan validated the information numerous times. I can assure you, his results are accurate.” The Elder took a breath, looking him in the eye. “The data you brought back included a record of each subject’s DNA. We keep the same information on file for all our soldiers. Paladin Danse’s DNA is a perfect match for a synth they called ‘M7-97’. To make matters worse, he’s gone AWOL. Disappeared without a trace. His sudden absence simply reinforces our conclusion that M7-97 and Paladin Danse are one and the same. I’m finding it difficult to believe that he never confided in you and swore you to secrecy.” He accused, tone cold. Nate’s expression hardened further, and MacCready watched in growing concern, getting the horrible feeling that Maxson would push him far enough to do something he’d regret.

“The Paladin never told me a thing, sir.” He said in a measured tone. “I can assure you I would not be stood here now if he had.”

The pair of them eyed each other up for a moment, as though sizing the other up. After a moment of stony silence, the Elder seemed to back down a little.

“I am trusting you to be doing the right thing here, Knight. Do not disappoint me. Danse is a synth. He represents everything we hate. A monstrosity of technology. Our mission in the Commonwealth is clear. The Institute and its creations need to be destroyed in order to preserve our future. Which leaves me facing the most difficult order I’ve ever given.” His eyes narrowed, his body language tight. If MacCready didn’t know better, he might have said the Elder was genuinely conflicted over this decision. “I am ordering you to hunt down Danse, and execute him.”

MacCready tensed. _Nate, don’t._ He knew what his partner was like. He stood up for what he believed was right, and most of the time, MacCready loved that about him. But right here? Right now? The best thing they could do would be to lie, say they would do it, and figure out how to fix it once they were out of Maxson’s hearing. The last thing they needed was for Nate to blow their carefully constructed cover with some impassioned speech.

So when Nate, through gritted teeth and hardened eyes, said, “Yes, sir.”, MacCready let out a relieved sigh.

“Good. I’m counting on you soldier. Speak to Proctor Quinlan. The data he’s been analysing may be able to provide you with a starting point.” Nate turned to leave, but before he could, the Elder stopped him. “And Knight? There’s a promotion riding on the results of these orders, so don’t disappoint me.”

 _Of course. They’re going to be one Paladin short after this is done._ MacCready thought, his gut all twisted up inside. This whole situation just didn’t sit well.

 

Once they were off of the command deck, MacCready looked up at Nate. “So… Danse is a synth huh?” He asked, not sure how to approach the subject what with Nate looking that stormy. “Can’t say I’m surprised. I mean, have you heard the guy speak?” He laughed, but in his head he was remembering the time he’d joked with Danse about his being a robot spewing Brotherhood propaganda, and his laugh tailed off weakly. “He can’t be taking it well.”

Nate didn’t respond, didn’t even look at him. When they reached Quinlan’s office, MacCready was feeling awkward and concerned, wishing Nate would say something to break the tension.

“Quinlan.” He said in a low voice, expression deliberately impassive.

“Oh, Knight. I was told you were coming. Sorry about this business with Danse.”

“What do you know about the situation?” Nate asked, cutting straight to the chase.

Quinlan gave them a brief rundown of what they already knew, then outlined a plan to find him, which consisted of… listing every single place Danse had ever been and crossing them off one by one. MacCready groaned inwardly. They were never going to find the guy, were they? He was about to point out the flaws in this plan, when they were interrupted by the scribe from Cambridge- Haylen, if MacCready’s memory served him well.

“What the hell is this about Danse being a synth?”

The three men in the room turned to face her, taken by surprise.

“I assume your outburst was a reference to some doubt regarding Danse’s identity. I can assure you that my findings are quite accurate, Scribe.” Quinlan commented with a raised eyebrow.

“So he sets Danse up, and then you knock him down, is that it?”

MacCready was surprised. He expected this kind of talk from Nate, but here he was listening to it coming from a genuinely committed Brotherhood soldier. “So you heard then, huh?” He commented, wondering just how far she was going to go with this.

“There are no secrets in the Brotherhood!” MacCready would have a few things to say about that, but he didn’t comment. “Maxson’s made it clear that we’re to locate Paladin Danse and if we find him, report his location to Knight Delaney.” She turned on Nate viciously, stepping into his space and actually making him step back, eyes wide. “That can only mean that _you’ve_ been sent to hunt him down.”

Nate let her have her moment, then straightened up and gave her a stern look. “I don’t have time to discuss it right now, Haylen.”

“Why? In too much of a rush to pull the trigger?” She asked in a sharp tone, not backing down. “I can’t believe that after everything Paladin Danse did for you, you’re just going to turn your back on him like this! There’s obviously been a mistake, and we need to get to the bottom of it.”

“Scribe Haylen! You are addressing a senior officer and you will show him the respect that he’s due or so help me I will have you brought up on charges!” Quinlan told her firmly. “Now unless you’re here with information that can assist us, I suggest you return to the police station immediately.”

She seemed to stop for a moment, considering that, then sighed and backed up. “Of course. My apologies, Proctor.” She bit her lip, then looked at Nate. “I believe… I have some information that’s relevant to the search.”

“Very well then.” Quinlan sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose and adjusting his glasses, “Would you care to enlighten us, or do we have to wait until you decide to grace us with your knowledge?” He asked in an exasperated tone.

She glared at him for a moment, then turned her attention back to Nate. “Knight, if you’d like to accompany me back to the Flight Deck, I’d like to show you the information I’ve compiled first hand. I’ve stored the data on my vertibird gunship’s computer.”

Nate considered her, then nodded. “At this point, I’ll take anything I can get.”

 _Anything that stops us having to go through the whole Commonwealth manually._ MacCready refrained from adding.

“Very good, sir.”

 

Quinlan dismissed them, and the pair of them followed Haylen below deck. MacCready couldn’t help but wonder if she really did intend to help. He didn’t have to wonder long, because as soon as they were alone, Haylen turned to them with desperation in her eyes.

“Do you actually plan on killing Paladin Danse?” She asked, tone quiet. “Before you decide… I need you to hear me out. I’ve known Paladin Danse ever since I was an Initiate. He trained me. Showed me the ropes. And when I screwed up, he taught me to dust myself off and move on. He’s earned my admiration, my respect and my friendship. I don’t care what Quinlan’s report says. I don’t care if he’s a machine or not, he’s still Danse.”

Nate was quiet for a moment, then asked, “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because someone has to before you rush off and carry out Maxson’s orders without thinking about what you’re doing. Danse is the most selfless person I’ve ever met. I’ve watched him risk his own life based on nothing but principle alone. That’s why I’m asking you, not just as a member of the Brotherhood, but as a human being… give him a chance. Let him tell his side of the story. If you’re not convinced by what he says, or somehow he’s become truly lost to us, then you do what you have to do.” She pleaded, with such reverence that MacCready wondered if loyalty was the only thing she felt towards the Paladin. Poor girl.

Beside him, Nate’s body language and expression softened, and he held up a hand, halting her words.

“I’m not going to kill him.”

She stopped, and blinked. “You’re… not?”

Nate shook his head. “He might be a stick in the mud sometimes. He might act like his got an iron rod up his ass, but he’s a good person, with good values. He doesn’t need more enemies right now, he needs friends. So you can go tell Quinlan that you gave me everything you know, and that I went off to execute him, but you can relax in the knowledge that he’s in good hands.”

“Oh.” She seemed to relax a little, visibly relieved. “Thank you. In that case… Before the Prydwen showed up, Danse had me identify a fallback point if we ever lost the police station. It’s called Listening Post Bravo, an old prewar US military outpost on the northern frontier of the Commonwealth. It’s isolated, and we’re the only ones that knew about it, so there’s a good chance that’s where he’s headed. Just… be careful. There’s no telling what state of mind he’s in right now, or if he trusts any of us at all.” She gave both Nate and MacCready a grateful smile. “That’s a weight off my chest… I hope he’s in good hands.”

“We’ll keep him safe, promise.” Nate swore.

 

With a new destination on the map, the pair of them headed off, leaving a very relieved Haylen behind. MacCready waited until they were off the Prydwen to speak.

“So… what’s the plan?”

“We have friends who specialise in dealing with lost or confused synths. If we can talk Danse into sticking with us, we can take him somewhere safe.”

“The Railroad? Nate, he’s still Danse. The guy who believes wholeheartedly in Brotherhood values. You really wanna take him to them?”

Nate gave him a sideways look. “Of course not. I’ll just take him to Covenant and hook him up with Dove or somebody like that. I don’t have to tell him who they work for.”

“Right.” MacCready nodded. “That makes more sense.”

It took a couple of hours to walk to the location Haylen had marked on Nate’s map, and when they arrived, they held back and scoped out the area, expecting a certain amount of precautions to have been put in place. Sure enough, there were turrets scattered about the place, and a hostile protectron manning the post. MacCready made short work of the turrets with a few well-placed bullets in each, and Nate took out the protectron easily enough. The bunker was a fair way below the outpost, and Nate had to boot up and elevator to get down there. The ride was a pretty long one, and MacCready couldn’t help but wonder what they’d find at the bottom. He hoped it wasn’t a body.

 

They were ready to confront him as soon as the doors opened, but before they could even scope out the room to see where he was, they were being fired on by another pair of protectrons, and a wall-mounted turret. Nate hissed in pain as he took a laser shot to the hip, and MacCready fired back at them, dodging shots as he did so. Once they were out of the way, Nate took a deep breath and assessed his wound. It was bleeding a little, but not enough to worry about. They heard the _click-click_ of a weapon being cocked, and both reached for their weapons again, but no shot came. MacCready glanced around, and saw a silhouette behind a clouded pane of glass at the other end of the room. It looked like the doorway to the next room had fallen in, so they’d have to find another way through. Fortunately, Danse’s own route was fairly obvious, and they used the dug-out tunnel off to the side to get in. Before they could enter the room, Nate pulled MacCready behind the wall and called out.

“Danse? It’s me. Don’t shoot.”

When there was no response, he nodded at MacCready and sheathed his sword, walking out with his hands up. MacCready followed suit. He winced when he saw Danse. The man was unshaven, tired-looking and the laser pistol he held was shaking with the trembling of his hands. Haylen had been right: he wasn’t handling this well.

“I’m not surprised Maxson sent you.” He said, eyes resigned. “He never did like to do the dirty work himself.” There was a sad tone to his voice, and MacCready remembered the conversation they’d had on their last mission together. He couldn’t help but feel pity for the man.

Nate lowered his hands, folding his arms instead. “So… You’re a synth, huh?”

Danse’s expression twisted. “I must be. Or else why would I be on that damned database?”

MacCready raised an eyebrow. “So… You didn’t know?”

“No. I didn’t.” Danse told him bitterly. “Until that data was decoded, I had no reason to think I might be one of them. If it wasn’t for Haylen, we wouldn’t even be having this conversation.” His eyes were cast downwards, his shoulders slumped. This was a man who hated himself. MacCready’s heart went out to him. “So?” He looked up at Nate. “What are your orders? Does Maxson even want me alive?”

Nate didn’t respond. He didn’t need to.

“I see.” Danse murmured. He took a deep breath, then tossed the pistol aside. The clatter it made when it hit the floor was loud in the silence of the bunker. “I am an enemy of the Brotherhood, and an enemy of the Commonwealth. Do what you must.”

“No.” Nate told him firmly. Danse frowned.

“Knight… If you disobey your orders, you’re not only betraying Maxson, you’re betraying the Brotherhood of Steel and everything it stands for.”

“I know.” Nate said simply. “I don’t care.”

“Knight Delaney, as your superior officer, I command you-”

“Shut up, Danse.” Nate told him, though it wasn’t at all malicious. Danse seemed to be struck into silence by that, giving Nate a chance to talk. “I don’t care what Maxson says. You're a good man, and no matter what’s under that skin of yours, you think, and you feel, and there are people who care about you. I’m not going to kill someone who’s only ever done good in his life for the sake of some jumped-up ideology. As for you being my superior officer, with all due respect, I don’t think you are anymore. So I don’t have to do as you say.”

Danse seemed to be stunned into silence by that. After a moment, he turned to MacCready. “And you? You share this sentiment?”

MacCready shrugged. “You might be a pain in the butt sometimes, but you don’t deserve to die for that. Maxson isn’t God, we don’t have to accept everything he says as gospel.”

“You would risk your standing, your very lives just to keep me alive?” He asked, his expression full of surprise and emotion. “Why?”

“The wasteland’s a cruel place.” Nate told him in a soft voice. “I’ve lost family, friends, all manner of loved ones… if I can avoid losing more, I will.”

Danse paused. “…You’re right. I never stopped to consider how this might affect those around me. I’m sorry.” He took a deep breath, eyes closed. “I suppose I should think about what happens next.” He nodded, and looked up. “The only path forward would be for me to leave the Commonwealth. Take my holotags. Use them to prove that your mission was a success, or Maxson will just send someone else to do the job instead.” He unclasped the chain from around his neck, and dropped the tags into Nate’s outstretched hand. Then he gave a single sharp nod. “Now then… Let’s get the hell out of here.”

Nate pocketed the tags, and together, they headed back up to the Commonwealth. Everything seemed like it was going to be okay, until Danse stopped dead as he left the bunker. MacCready joined him, and his gut twisted as he saw Maxson waiting for them. They’d been followed. His hand went to the butt of his rifle as Maxson eyed the three of them, his expression irate.

“How dare you.” He addressed them in a voice shaking with anger. “How dare you betray the Brotherhood.”

“Maxson, it is not their fault, it is mi-”

“I’ll deal with you in a minute!” Maxson snapped harshly. “Knights, why has this… this _thing_ not been destroyed?” MacCready saw Danse wince at the words, and anger flared up inside him. Nate stepped forward, putting himself between Maxson and Danse.

“He is not a thing. He is a person, with thoughts and feelings and an identity. With all due respect, quit kidding yourself.” Nate’s own voice was icy cold, and his hand rested none-too-subtly on the hilt of his sword. Maxson’s eyes flitted down, and back up again, narrowing on him.

“Are you disobeying a direct order, Delaney?”

“Yes.” Nate told him. “I am.”

“You would throw away everything for a _machine?_ That thing is not a human, it is an abomination. A representation of everything we hate.”

“You sound like a broken record, Maxson. Saying the same thing over and over. It can’t change the fact that you’re wrong.”

Maxson stepped forward in a wordless threat. “It’s not too late to change your mind, Knight. Don’t make the wrong decision here.”

“After everything I’ve done for you.” Danse spoke up, his voice full of hurt. “All the blood I’ve spilled in your name…”

Maxson pushed past Nate, going up to him, pistol drawn. “You be quiet, _synth._ ” He spat. “You’re the reason this world is a blasted hellscape. Your kind is everything that’s wrong with this world. You don’t _get_ to claim moral high ground.” He pressed the barrel of the gun to Danse’s chest, leaning in close. “You’re a ticking time bomb in an arsenal of thousands, just waiting to wipe out what’s left of mankind.”

Nate didn’t take kindly to that. MacCready heard the _shing_ of a drawn sword, and Nate rested the flat of the blade on Maxson’s shoulder. Maxson froze, glancing back at him.

“Knight. Are you threatening me?”

“Are you threatening my friend?” Nate responded, and MacCready could tell that if Maxson made one wrong move, Nate would take off his head- and smile as he did it. Maxson was stock still for a moment, then tore his gun away. Danse took a breath, relaxing as the immediate threat was taken away, and Nate backed off, though he didn’t lower his sword.

“You’re making a critical mistake, Delaney. Mark my words.”

Nate smiled coolly, and shrugged. “The way I see it, you have two choices. Either you let this go, or the Brotherhood finds a new Elder.”

Maxson growled, but stuck his pistol in his belt. “Fine. But no one, I repeat _no one_ hears about this. You report back to the Prydwen as though Danse is dead, and if I _ever_ see him again, he is _not_ getting another chance.” Maxson glared at Danse. “Count your lucky stars that you have such good friends. Don’t even consider affiliating with the Brotherhood from now on. Your time with us is _done_.”

With that scathing remark, he turned heel and strode off, leaving the three of them alone once more.

“Jeez.” MacCready muttered. “I think you just made yourself a powerful enemy, Nate.”

Nate sheathed his sword, expression stormy. “I never did like him anyway.”

“Thank you.” Danse told him, looking mildly shell shocked. “That… took a lot of guts.”

“No it didn’t. He’s had that coming for a while.” Nate sighed, some of the aggression leaving his body and turned to Danse. “You still plan on leaving?”

“Honestly?” Danse’s face fell. “I’m not sure. I have nowhere to go. I guess… I might as well stay here.”

“I have a better plan.” Nate told him, exchanging a look with MacCready. “Come with me. There’s someone I want to introduce you to.”


End file.
